Remember the Mat
by daccu65
Summary: Fifth in my "To the Mat" Series. Kim and Ron face college life while new villains and challenges emerge.
1. Chapter 1

_Ladies and gentlemen, let me start out by saying that I do not own Kim Possible or any of the other characters from the Kim Possible television series. This story is not intended to generate profit, merely for entertainment. _

_Legal issues aside, this is the fifth story in my 'To the Mat' series. For those of you who haven't read the previous four stories, I must say that this story will be more understandable and hopefully more enjoyable if you read them first. That said, please enjoy the story:_

* * *

Chapter 1

"Very well, Drew, what seems to be the problem?" Dr. Director's eye pierced her blue underling from the giant monitor, which dominated one wall in the former Dr. Drakken's office. "What couldn't wait until game night?"

"It's Trudy Dementor," the man who now answered to Mr. Lipsky informed his superior. "She's taken over her father's operation."

"You've already reported this and to be honest, we expected her to do this. Why has this become a problem."

"She's learned from her father's mistakes," Drew reported.

"You've reported this, as well. You claim that the professor didn't make full use of his genius. Are you sure this isn't your old rivalry speaking?"

"I'm certain," Lipsky snapped. "I'll freely admit that the professor was probably a better research scientist than I ever was. However, he made two errors that kept him from becoming the worlds dominant criminal. First, he didn't diversify his income. He counted on his payoff and protection money to keep him solvent. I, on the other hand, had developed manufacturing capability and sold useful implements to Henchco. While it didn't bring in massive payoffs, it brought in a steady income. To use the baseball metaphor, it's better to have a hitter that gets on base six out of ten times, than a hitter who hits a home run one out of ten and strikes out the rest."

"Drew..." Dr. Director attempted to interrupt.

"The second error my former rival made was that he ostracized himself," Lipsky continued. "I know I wasn't exactly 'Mr. Sociable', back in the day but at least I got along with most of my peers. I was able to hire or partner with Fiske, Duff and... DNAmy." Mentioning the geneticists name caused Drew to flinch in remembered horror. "Also, I kept Shego as a long-term employee." Here, Drew paused for a moment, "speaking of her..."

"Keep on your original topic," Director demanded. "And make it short. I'm on a tight schedule."

"Right, right. Professor Dementor didn't have any such long-term employees and he didn't have any partnerships within the wicked community. This meant that whenever he needed additional muscle or talent, he was forced to hire it. Whenever he tried to hire a particular talent, or muscle up, your organization was able to detect it and take action."

"And you're saying that his daughter isn't making the same mistakes."

"YES. Exactly! First of all, Trudy Dementor has started to build minor items, which I am purchasing and distributing to the villain community. While the items she's constructing aren't breakthrough technology, yet, she's establishing her markets and her manufacturing capability."

"You've already reported this." The voice was getting noticeably impatient.

"But I have additional information," Drew protested. "Do you know who convinced her to start off manufacturing simple devices?"

"No..."

"Elisabeth Minated! Trudy Dementor is a brilliant physicist but still naive within the industrial/criminal world. She's compensating for this naiveté by establishing contacts with more experienced criminals. Minated is a genius when it comes to operating criminal organizations and she has limited access to Senior's wealth. I had Hank talk to Trudy a little bit and we think that Elisabeth funded Trudy's manufacturing venture, after establishing the parameters."

"This is troubling," Director admitted, with a frown. "But I don't see this as being an extraordinary situation."

"It _**is**_ extraordinary," Drew insisted. "First of all, these two compliment each other very well. Trudy is a brilliant and unethical physicist, which means she has incredible potential. Elisabeth is a brilliant and unethical resource manager, she can both utilize and develop Trudy's talent."

"Secondly, the two appear to be genuinely fond of each other," Drew continued. "This means that they will support each other even beyond mutual benefit. Elisabeth will go that extra mile to secure funding for Trudy's ventures. Trudy will go that extra mile to make sure that Elisabeth gets a return on her investment."

"Third, both of these women are very young," Drew concluded. "Trudy is still in her teens and Elisabeth is in her early twenties. They could very well be establishing a very long-term partnership, one that will threaten the world for decades to come."

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?"

"Potentially, yes. Also, I could be potentially understating the problem. Think about this for a moment, by working with Minated, Dementor has established a reliable income. Using this income, she could fund additional research. Right now, she's purchasing some very high-end monitoring equipment. She's clearly studying something."

"Any ideas?"

"She's a better physicist than I am. Whatever she's studying is beyond my knowledge. By the way, did anybody ever figure out why her father kidnapped Camille?"

"No idea," Dr. Director added. "Kim and Ron talked to Camille when they returned her to Senior's Island and she reported that Dementor had her morph, repeatedly, between her own form and that of one of his bodyguards. After this, he had her doing so while wearing some, in her words, 'cheap, uncool rings'. After that, he was going to have her do the same with a belly piercing. Does this give you any ideas?"

"At the moment, no," Drew confessed. "If you can send me a complete transcript, I'll be happy to review it. Maybe my genius is enough to figure out what that little pretender was up to."

"It's good to see that you've put your former rivalries behind you," Dr. Director quipped.

"Hey, I was kind enough to send him a songbird, compliments of Henchco, to ease his incarceration! I hope that the sweet music makes the hours fly by."

"As well as make something else flying out?"

"Eeergh, fine! I'm a vindictive man and I haven't been able to completely leave my past behind. Speaking of which, are you willing to give me an update about Shego's status?"

"She's pregnant, Drew."

"That's wonderful!"

"Our monitoring assets report that she's uncharacteristically happy about it. When she scorches her employer's rivals and rowdy employees, she's been known to give them smiley face scars. Anyway, she's due next spring. If you continue to do your job and she and Monty behave themselves, within reason, we'll allow you to be there when she gives birth."

"What will you expect in return?"

"Drew, Global Justice understands rewards based reinforcement. Shego and Monty are making no effort to subvert any national governments. In fact, they've dissuaded their employer from taking that course of action. You have done an excellent job of monitoring potential, international criminal organizations. You and Shego have earned a reward and I think that both of you would like you to be present for your…'grandchild's' birth."

"Yes, I will consider the child to be my grandchild. I wonder what kind of life those two are going to be able to provide the child," Drew mused. "Will they raise their child to be a criminal or teach him or her something else?"

"Don't you want your grandchild to follow his grandfather's footsteps?"

"No, no, no," Drakken shook his head. "Crime only pays in certain circumstances. Now even my own cousin is trying to go straight. I hope that Shego and Monty are capable of giving their child a better future. Who knows? Maybe I can find something better for him or her."

* * *

_Speaking of Cousin Eddy..._

"The Colorado Board of Paroles will now hear the case of Mr. Edward Lipsky. Mr. Lipsky, do you have your representation with you at this time?"

"Seriously, your honorable dude!"

"Let the record show this as an affirmative response. Mr. Lipsky, we have already read your sworn affidavit about the events that took place during your abduction from the halfway house and the events at the location now known as Loward's Island. We will be asking you questions about your motivations during these, and other, events. Do you understand?"

"Dude?"

"He means they're going to be asking you why you did what you did," his lawyer explained.

"Oh, sure dude! Fire away, seriously!"

"Very well, Mr. Lipsky. First, I'm going to question you about the events that took place during the flooding, when you encountered Team Possible."

"Oh! You mean Red and the Skinny Dude!"

"Exactly. I understand that you had been assigned to assist at the airport when you observed Miss Possible and immediately requested reassignment."

"Seriously! I had a restraining order so I needed to be somewhere else."

"Very well, you received a reassignment to help clear debris along the riverbank. While working, debris shifted and injured one of your fellow trustees. While you were attempting to free him, Mr. Stoppable approached and assisted. Did you entice him to assist?"

"Dude?"

"Did you give him any indication that you required his assistance?"

"Seriously no way, dude! I didn't even know that the skinny dude was there."

"Very well, after he assisted with the rescue, I understand you allowed him to ride your motorcycle. Why did you do this?"

"Getting him back, dude, seriously!"

"Please explain."

"The skinny dude had bought my last ride when I went into the slammer, seriously. So I built a better ride. I wanted him to see how sweeeeeeeet my new ride was. So I let him take a ride on it. Once you ride Ed's latest, everything else seems seriously lame."

"Weren't you concerned about your restraining order?"

"Seriously not, dude! My restraining order was for Red, not the skinny dude."

"But Kim Possible approached you while Mr. Stoppable was riding your vehicle," the judge pointed out."

"Yeah! She seriously approached me, so I wasn't violating the order. She thought I'd wrecked him, seriously. Anyway, her friend came back and smoothed everything over."

"Very well, shortly after this, the villain known as Shego visited you at your halfway house facility, abducted you and apparently secured some sort of tracking device on your body," the judge continued.

"_**On**_ my body!?" Ed snapped back. "She seriously shoved a bug up my..."

"I don't think we need the specifics," the judge interrupted. "Shall we say that this device wound up in your body cavity? Anyway, according to you, you did not instigate the contact with Shego."

"No Way! One of my parole things was that I kept away from known felons. Now, when she showed up in my room I seriously thought she wanted to crank up the RPMs, if you know what I mean, but I was seriously ready to walk away and report the incident...the next morning. Anyway, she did the cavity thing and sold me to that seriously whacked out Loward dude and he made me work with my cuz to build those robot wrecking machines."

"I understand that during Mr. Loward's takeover attempt, you physically confronted him."

"I rumbled with him, seriously," Motor Ed grimaced with remembered pain. "And seriously got it handed to me."

"Why did you do so?" The judge asked.

"My cuz said that it was time to wreck their plans," Ed shrugged. "I kinda figured that once they had what they wanted, they seriously wouldn't have any use for us anyway. Since Red, the skinny dude, the green babe and the monkey dude had all shown up, it seriously seemed like my best chance."

"So you didn't perform an altruistic sacrifice?"

"Dude?"

"You didn't do it for the sake of the entire world?"

"Seriously, this world's never done much for me, so I'm not all that into saving it. I'm not gonna tank it but I'm not about to put my neck out there to save it, either. Me and my cuz were in serious trouble and it looked like our best chance to get out. I seriously wasn't looking out for anyone but me and my cuz."

"So you freely admit that you were acting in your own self-interest?"

"Seriously."

"I would like to ask questions along a different line," another judge chimed in. "Mr. Lipsky, it is my understanding that you are currently gainfully employed."

"I've got a serious job, if that's what you mean."

"It is," the judge confirmed. "Please name your employer and tell us your duties."

"I work at Fred's diesel repair. I take care of overnight repairs and nighttime emergency work. If some big rig breaks down, the tow boys bring it in and I seriously get it running again."

"Are you an adequate mechanic?"

"Dude, you can't be serious! There is no such thing as an engine that I can't fix! When I work on an engine, it winds up better than it was before it broke down."

"I've reviewed your pay stubs," the judge continued. "With the money you've accumulated in your account, plus your continued income, you should be able to afford your own domicile. Mr. Lipsky, what are your financial plans for the immediate future?"

"Dude?"

"He's wondering if you intend to keep working for Fred," Ed's attorney translated.

"Seriously!" Ed assured his questioner. "Nighttime mechanic work is great! There's nobody around to harsh my mellow, y'know. I mean, it's just me, the engines and the shop. Nobody much cares that I don't like wearing a uniform or cutting my hair. As long as I get the machines working by the time the sun comes up, everyone's seriously cool with me." After a moment of thought, he continued, "the extra coin's pretty gnarly, too."

"How about longer term plans?" The judge insisted. "Do you see yourself working for Fred's until you retire?"

"No way dude! Check it out, I've been looking into an old racetrack outside of town, seriously. Now, nobody races stock cars there anymore, so it's seriously cheap. Now, I save my money and buy the place, then I make it into a demolition derby! People pay me to compete and more people pay me to come and watch the gnarly wreck-fest. Now, after the derby each week, I tell the losers that I'll get rid of their heaps for them. That'll give me parts for my junkyard."

"Your junkyard?"

"Seriously dude, check this out! When I'm not running the demo derby, I'll be customizing rides. You can make some serious coin doing that, if you're good enough and Ed's good enough!"

"Very well, Mr. Lipsky, the board will now deliberate your case. Bailiff, kindly escort Mr. Lipsky and his attorney to the holding cell."

"So, you seriously think I have a chance of getting out of the halfway house?" Ed asked his attorney, once the two of them were in a side chamber.

"Believe it or not, I do," the man replied. "You made some...serious...points when you didn't lie about your fight on that island. You're not the hero type, Ed, and trying to act like one wouldn't have helped you. In fact, they would have probably stopped the hearing."

"Hey, I just want to have fun," the big man admitted. "I've figured out that I can have more fun by not hurting anyone, and staying out of the slammer, than by wrecking someone and going into the big house."

Any response the lawyer might have made was interrupted by the parole board's summons for the two to return.

"Mr. Lipsky," the chairman addressed the mullet-clad blonde. "This board has decided that you have earned additional freedoms. Judging from your honesty, the fact that you have sustained gainful employment, and the fact that you have a realistic plan for your future tells us that you have an excellent chance of reintegrating yourself into society. You have thirty days to obtain your own domicile. The Board of Corrections will free up such funds as you require, after approval. After you establish this domicile, the Board of Corrections will install a monitor receiver at this location. You will continue to be limited to travel between work and your domicile, with the addition of supervised trips for commercial purposes. Do you understand, Mr. Lipsky?"

"Seriously dude? You lost me at reintegrating."

"Let me explain," Ed's attorney interrupted. "They're going to let you get your own place," he explained to his client. "You'll be under the same rules as you are in the halfway house, right now. For instance, you'll still wear a tracking device and you'll have to report your movements to the authorities, but you'll be pretty much free within your own place. Do you approve of this?"

"Approve? This is sweeeeeeeeet!" Ed Lipsky shrieked in joy, pantomiming playing a guitar while leaning back so far that his back was on the ground.

"Your honor," his attorney addressed the parole board. "Let the record show that the subject, Mr. Edward Lipsky, indicated enthusiastic agreement by performing a stunning air-guitar solo."

"Duly noted."

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Upperton:_

"Dinner is served to the two most bon-diggity ladies in Upperton," Ron Stoppable announced, setting two plates on the table.

"You never give up, do you Stoppable?" Ms. Hatchet snarled, but she had a smile on her face as the young man served both her and Kim. Kim couldn't help but smile as her PF fetched two more plates, for Rufus and himself, before sitting next to the redhead. Kim quickly slipped one foot out of her sneaker and slid it along Ron's calf, adding a bit of spice to an already excellent dinner.

Kim had been delighted to learn, during the five weeks she had lived with her PF and their chaperone, that Ms. Hatchet wasn't interested in suppressing all affectionate displays between the teens. Instead, she simply made sure that the teens didn't indulge in any activities that they wouldn't have been willing to display in public. Therefore, Kim and Ron were free to indulge in cuddling, kissing and even some light necking. However, the librarian was adamant that they keep up in their schoolwork and she firmly shut down any further romantic activity.

Two weeks into their new housing arrangement, Kim decided to put their chaperone's competency to the test. Ms. Hatchet had retired early and Kim could clearly hear her talking in her sleep, discussing the strengths and weaknesses of the Dewey Decimal system. Kim, who had had an argument with the cheerleading coach, decided that this would be an excellent night for a little comfort, so she slipped silently out of her room and tiptoed towards Ron's.

She hadn't intended to have sex with Ron, she just wanted to settle in next to him and have him hold and comfort her. Kim had always been a little high strung and Ron had always had a talent for calming her. This gave her nighttime excursion a practical application, she just wouldn't be able to get a good night's sleep without a little Ronshine. That's when she had discovered that Ms. Hatchet's claim of incredible hearing wasn't an idle boast.

"You've already taken three strides past the bathroom, Possible," the gravely voice announced from the chaperone's room. "So I think it's a fair bet that you're heading for Stoppable's Room. You can forget about it! It might interest you to know that his little, freaky rodent crawled into bed with him forty minutes ago, I heard every scampering step and his squeaks sounded a little crankier than usual, so waking the little guy up might not be very pleasant. Finally, I'd like to inform you that your socks are mismatched, one is slightly thicker than the other and I can hear it in your tread. Now, I'll write this one off as you trying to test the waters, so to speak. If I hear either of you sneaking into the other's room after this incident, I will report it to your parents, particularly your father and Stoppable's mother."

Kim had been suitably intimidated. If either her father or Ron's mother thought they were 'getting frisky', like Monique would say, the whole deal would come to an end. Strictly speaking, she and Ron were now over eighteen and could remain living where they were, but neither wanted to defy their parents yet. Instead, they had asked their chaperone, the next morning, what sort of affectionate displays she would allow. The teens were pleasantly surprised when Hatchet pointed out that she was just there to make sure they didn't neglect their studies and keep them from doing anything that might 'affect their futures'.

Since then, Kim Possible had learned just how satisfying casual contact could be. While she still had a strong desire to join with her pre-fiancé, this desire was tempered with the knowledge that such joining was eventually going to happen. In the meantime, she had become a connoisseur of cuddling, an enthusiast of the embrace, a snuggling specialist. Right now, she was certain that Ms. Hatchet was perfectly aware of her playing footsie with Ron but the older woman didn't seem to mind one bit.

"The two of you _**are**_ going to put in some study time tonight, aren't you?" The librarian asked. "After all, you're going to want the rest of your weekend free."

Kim and Ron agreed with her command-disguised-as-a-question. It only made sense. Tomorrow was the football team's home opener and both the Possibles and Stoppables were coming to Upperton to see their children perform. Of course, the teens would want to get their required schoolwork done so that they could spend time with the families after the game. Kim simply smiled, knowing how the studying would progress.

After dealing with the dinner dishes, Kim and Ron retired to the house's den to study. Both had some reading to do, so they used their favorite method of doing so. They sat back to back on the comfortable couch, each with their feet hanging over one of the couch's arms. Rather than distracting each other, their presence comforted each other, helping them to relax. While the desire remained, stronger than ever, they both knew that it was inevitable that they would share themselves with each other at the right time. With that knowledge, they were able to push the longing aside and concentrate on the matter at hand.

It wasn't just academics that had the two teens tense right now. To nobody's surprise, Kim had made the varsity cheerleading squad and, to a few people's surprise, Ron had become the first true freshman to start on the football team in over a decade. Last week, the Upperton U team had played its first game of the season. It hadn't taken long for Ron to make his mark, scorching the opposition for over one hundred and eighty yards of rushing and another forty yards receiving. Behind this offensive output, Upperton had cruised to an easy victory. This probably wouldn't be the case tomorrow.

For one thing, the visiting team, Chadron State, was much better than the Colorado School of Mines had been last week. Secondly, after Ron racked up the yardage last week, the defense would be keying on him this week. For another thing, this was the home opener, the first time that Kim would cheer and Ron would play, as college students, in front of the 'rents. Finally, Warren the reporter had warned the teens that there would be a few protests taking place during the game.

Apparently, Rita Richards had let a few of her acquaintances know that if they showed up to protest Upperton's home game, she would assure that they received some positive press coverage. Warren, a media insider, had identified two groups that intended to show up and wave the signs. The first was a hardcore socialist organization, that intended to complain about the preferential treatment the university gave the two teens, by allowing them to live in their own place. Apparently, this group had not heard that it was the university itself that had required the teens to live off campus.

The second group was a fundamentalist organization that was protesting the teens' living arrangement. This group declared that the teens were living in sin, neglecting to acknowledge the facts that the sleeping arrangements, and the chaperone, were public knowledge. What really tanked was that the two groups mustered only seventy members between them but Rita Richards' cronies were sure to make the protests look like a massive demonstration. To top it off, like Warren said, protesters were a social species. As soon as some other groups saw protesters and television cameras, they were sure to show up and try to get a little screen time, themselves.

This constant attention, far more critical than she received in high school, made Kim thankful for the current living arrangements. Somehow, just the feel of Ron's back up against hers calmed her. What she found even more heartwarming was the sure knowledge that she comforted him every bit as much, with the casual contact. She honestly wished that they could sleep together, even by the term's literal definition but she was willing to wait. They were still preparing for a real life and she was content, for now, to know that the real life would include each other.

The teens continued to study until 9:00 PM, choosing to turn in early. Despite the pressure and frustrations, they slept well. Both were up by seven the next morning, eating a solid breakfast. The 'rents, with Hannah and the tweebs, showed up shortly after they finished. There were hugs and greetings, but the visitors knew that Kim and Ron wouldn't really be good company until after the game. Instead, they wished the teens well as they climbed into the Sloth and drove off to the stadium.

"Well, Warren did warn us," Kim commented, as they drove by two small groups of protestors.

The two groups, each under twenty people, were energized when the spotted the very recognizable redhead. The protest signs began to wave with some more energy and the chants picked up volume as Kim drove past them and parked outside the gym.

"Do you think Rita will bother to mention that there's actually more press people here, covering the protests, than there are protestors?" Ron asked is PF, as the two teens recovered their gym bags and walked towards the gym.

"Rita won't," Kim grumbled. "Warren will, but she won't. Of course, since we got here early the demonstrators probably don't have all of their members here yet. Once some of the campus activists spot the cameras, I think we'll have a lot of groups out here to get some lens time."

Ron grunted his agreement. Like a lot of college freshmen, he was honestly shocked by how seriously some of his fellow students took political activism. The teens moved quickly, getting into the gym before either the protestors or the press could confront them. The two quickly made to their respective locker rooms and changed into gis. It was still well before the 11AM kickoff and the two teens would loosen up by sparring.

After roughly an hour, the teens were limber, warmed up...and had attracted an audience. Several members of the football team and the cheerleading squad, stood by as the two teens hammered away at each other. Feeling more than a little self-conscious from the attention, Kim and Ron ended their workout, shared a quick, chaste kiss and went to their respective locker rooms, preparing for the game.

"I see some things haven't changed very much," Marcella commented to Kim, joining the redhead in the locker room. "At least if Tara was telling me the truth."

"We can't all be normal," Kim replied, opening her locker. Marcella was a year older than Kim and had just made the squad this year. It was very rare for a freshman to make the squad, which was yet another testament to Kim's incredible athleticism. "Seriously, sparring is kind of necessary. Ron and I still tangle with the bad guys quite a bit, so we need to keep ready."

"You two always were different," the older girl shook her head, although her tone made it clear she was giving Kim some good-natured teasing. "Seriously though, it's good to see that the two of you finally realized you were a couple. You look good together."

"If I could just explain that to a few more people around campus," Kim retorted, although she smiled at her teammate.

Kim and Marcella shared a commiserating smile. Both young women were very attractive and had thus gained the attention of numerous young men. Kim, with her fame, had gained the attention of even more such young men that Marcella had. While most such young men were polite, dropping their pursuit when Kim told them she wasn't interested, a few were distressingly persistent. Kim was seriously considering getting a little more forceful in her refusals but she was sure that any such actions would be covered, in depth, on Rita Richards' next broadcast.

"Has Ron been having the same problems?" Marcella asked.

"Not as much," Kim admitted. "And sort of opposite to the problems I've been having. I mean, I had a lot of guys hitting on me when I first got here but most of them backed off when they found out I had a boyfriend. Almost all the rest of them backed off when I told them I'm with Ron for the long haul. Ron on the other hand didn't have that many girls interested in him, until his performance last week. Still, most of the girls who started noticing him backed off once they realized that we're an item."

Marcella looked like she was ready to say something else but Lisa, the cheer captain, interrupted her.

"Okay girls," the collegiate senior's voice silenced the conversations. "Let's get ready. We've worked out the routines. Since the weather will be dry, if a little cold, we'll be doing the towers today."

Kim quickly changed into her uniform while smiling a little. She actually enjoyed not being the cheer captain, since it allowed her to just enjoy herself on the squad, rather than being responsible.

"You set, mad dog?" Jeremy, the starting fullback, asked Ron. Ron smiled at how his high school nickname had followed him to college.

"I'm just feeling a little jumpy," the blonde admitted. "I don't understand it, I wasn't this nervous last week."

"You've learned some things," Jeremy shrugged. "Now you know just how much better the competition is, at this level. That and this is the home opener. If you screw up here, all your classmates will know about it."

"As well as my parents and my sister," Ron grumbled.

"Don't sweat it," Jeremy punched the halfback lightly on the shoulder. "Just get out there and execute. You'll be fine."

"You sound like Coach Hartmann," Ron retorted.

"I hope so, he's a smart man. You know the drill, I'll open the holes and you scorch 'em."

"That I can do," Ron agreed. "Although I'd almost like to scorch our own defense even more." Due to his distant brush with fame, Ron had received more than the usual freshman hazing from his upper classmen teammates.

Jeremy smiled at his halfback. He had joined in the hazing, in a good-natured manner, when Ron first arrived. Shortly after the freshman players took their physical fitness tests, and Ron had set the school record, he had backed off the hazing in an effort to teach the freshman as much as possible. While most of the offense followed suit, the defensive players continued to heckle the blonde, mercilessly. Ron wasn't experienced enough to realize that the trash talking had changed from freshman hazing to the usual offense vs. defense jawing.

After the team started full contact drills, Ron had earned most of the defense's respect. Still, a handful of players continued the very mean-spirited attacks. Jeremy figured that half of the guys wanted to put down Ron to make themselves look better while the other half were jealous of the blondes skills. For whatever reason, it wasn't open enough to affect team unity, yet. There were also other students, not on the team, who were giving Ron no end of grief, secure in the knowledge that Ron wouldn't strike back for fear of being kicked off of the team.

"Ron," Jeremy began. "Did you get this kind of heckling in high school?"

"Not very much," Ron admitted, after a moment's thought. "I mean, I started off really green so a lot of the guys really got down on me when I screwed up the drills but..."

"No," Jeremy interrupted, even as he geared up. "I mean did you catch the crap off of the field."

"Oh yeah," Ron nodded, smiling at the bad memory. "Freshman and sophomore years, I was the school punching bag."

"That's still not what I meant," Jeremy interrupted again. "Did you catch all this grief from people about you hanging out with Possible?"

"Only from a couple of the girls who really hated her," Ron shrugged. "Why?"

"I've never seen anyone catch as much grief from the protesters as the two of you have," Jeremy told his teammate.

"I'm not the brightest guy around but I kind of expected this. KP's famous, so she always has some cameras pointed at her. Since the protesters want to show up on TV, they go to where the cameras are at."

"I don't think that's the whole story," Jeremy frowned. "I mean, some of these groups didn't even exist before you two showed up on campus. I think..."

The fullback's musings were cut short when Coach Hartmann bellowed at his players to get certain portions of their anatomies moving before he applied his foot to those same body parts. Further conversation was out of the question.

It was game time.

* * *

_A big thanks goes out to Joe Stoppinghem, for beta-ing my latest work even at the expense of his own writing. _

_Until my next posting, best wishes..._

_daccu65_


	2. The College Sitch

Chapter 2: The college Sitch

It was a perfect football day. The late morning air was chill but not cold, the sky was covered with thin, light clouds and there was just enough of a breeze to bring the smell from the tailgate parties into the stands. The Stoppables and Possibles settled into their seats, having just run the gauntlet formed by the protestors. Fortunately, the four parents, as well as the twins and Hanna, were even less known than Ron. Had the protestors recognized them, they were certain that things would have become very unpleasant. As it was, Jim and Tim caught a great deal more suggestive language than the adults were comfortable with. Still, they were now in the stadium and the band drowned out the protestors' chants.

Soon the fans drowned out the band when the teams rushed onto the field. Upperton U wasn't a large university but that seemed to have a certain charm. The students in the stands were here to see their classmates play. The Upperton U athletes didn't live in athletes' dormitories or eat in athletes' dining facilities, the university was too small for such things. Instead, the players on the field lived, ate and studied side-by-side with their fellow students. This gave the university a greater sense of community, which extended to the graduates. The stands were packed with fans that were in attendance to renew old acquaintances as much as to watch the game.

"I wonder how Kimmie-cub is handling not being the head cheerleader?" James asked his wife, raising his voice slightly over the energetic crowd, as the cheerleaders sprinted onto the sidelines.

"It bothered her at first," Anne answered. "But she's actually enjoying a little freedom from the responsibility."

"Really?" Tim asked.

"Are you sure?" Jim added.

"She really loves being in charge," they said, in unison.

"I think it's good for her," Anne told her sons and husband. "Kim won't be able to start at the top when she gets out of college, so a little experience at being one of the worker bees is a good thing. At least she still gets to be at the top of the pyramid."

This last remark was accompanied by a gesture towards the Upperton U cheerleading squad. The cheerleaders had just reached the end of their first routine, finishing with a three-high tower. Although Kim wasn't the head cheerleader, she was clearly the most athletic girl on the squad. Because of this, she vaulted to the top of the formation and waved her arms enthusiastically encouraging the crowd to yell louder. After a few moments, she executed a back flip and landed gracefully. The cheerleaders then turned their attention to the game as the teams took the field.

* * *

Ron; as a freshman, wasn't one of the captains so he didn't take the field for the coin toss. Instead, he was as pumped as the rest of the offense to find that Upperton would receive the opening kickoff. His excitement waned a bit when Upperton's return man fumbled. While the young man managed to fall on the ball, Upperton was pinned inside its own ten-yard line.

"Okay, fine!" The quarterback, Roger, yelled at his team. "We've just got more room to work with!"

The first play was a handoff to Ron. However, Chadron State was keying on the freshman and stuffed him behind the line. For the second play, Roger faked the handoff to Ron, who took another pounding when he reached the line. Unfortunately for the Eagles, the linebackers who rushed forward to hit Ron weren't available to cover the tight end over the middle. The result was a completed pass for a first down.

The next series started with another handoff to Ron, for only two yards. The freshman picked up another two yards on the next handoff and the Eagles defense batted down the third down pass, forcing the Miners to punt.

"Okay, they're keying on Stoppable," the offensive coordinator told his team, once he had them gathered on the sidelines. "We're going to execute a lot of play action and misdirection plays. Stoppable, you're going to take a heck of a beating for not many yards."

"It's for the team, coach," Ron responded.

"That's the attitude," the coach nodded. "Now, here's what we'll run on our next series..."

The Eagles managed a field goal on their first drive. After the ensuing kickoff, the Miners executed the plan their offensive coordinator had outlined. It worked like a charm, with the offense gaining steady yardage while Ron took a beating.

* * *

"I hope Ronald will be up to us taking him out to dinner tonight," James Possible remarked, wincing, as Ron got hammered yet again...and the Miners picked up another easy pass over the middle. The rocket scientist glanced over towards Jean Stoppable, who flinched when Ron took the hit.

"Don't worry," Anne Possible assured her friend. "He's a tough boy and the coaches won't let him take too much of a beating."

Anne frowned after making this remark. As a brain surgeon, she despised the violence and injuries football caused. However, as a realist, she understood that young men sought out physical confrontations. At least with football, the young men were protected, trained and supervised. Anne Possible had never been a big fan of sociology, so she didn't know what to think about the argument that such violence was inevitable. Did football provide a socially acceptable and somewhat controlled outlet for pre-existing violence, or did football promote violence?

Of course, worrying about this level of violence seemed a mute point when Ronald, a boy who frequently confronted dangerous criminals and rescue missions, was involved. As she expected, the boy in question quickly hopped to his feet and returned to the huddle. Anne returned her attention to the cheerleading squad, noticing that Kim was also watching Ron with a concerned look on her face. The thought that her daughter was clearly worried about the young man, who had taken much worse beatings during missions, brought a smile to the older redhead's face.

"I wonder why Kim's so worried about Ron," one of the twins remarked, as the cheer captain started her squad on another routine.

"Is it because she thinks he's getting hurt," the other continued. "Or because she's afraid he won't be any fun later tonight?"

Three adults gulped while Anne stifled a giggle. Her boys were at a stage that was both endearing and frustrating. Much like their father, they had developed logical minds very early in life but other aspects hadn't manifested yet. They could understand that their sister liked being with Ron; but they hadn't quite figured out _**all**_ of the reasons that she wanted to be with him. Combined with their habit of blurting out their observations, this strange mixture of intelligent and naive generated some embarrassing moments. Despite the fact that they joyfully included Ron in the torment they constantly heaped upon their sister, Anne thought that seeing Kim and Ron together was good for the boys. When the time came that they became interested in girls, they would hopefully establish relationships similar to the one their older sister was enjoying now.

"Kim and Ron play lots!" Hanna exclaimed, prompting both chuckles and blushes from the four adults. Fortunately, any comments that the nearby fans could come up with were interrupted by action on the field.

* * *

Roger had faked another handoff to Ron, who ran into the line. The Eagles defense, wising to the fact that the Miners were more interested in using Ron as a decoy, didn't react this time. Unfortunately for the Eagles, they covered the tight end and short receiver, ignoring Ron. Roger tossed the ball to a wide-open Ron Stoppable and the Eagles suddenly found themselves with a running back free in their secondary.

Upperton U fans rose to their feet as Ron flew downfield. The freshman sidestepped a linebacker and really applied his speed. One of the Eagles' safeties came up and received a stiff-arm that both sent him sprawling and drew a collective gasp from the fans. Ron, slowed by the contact, only managed a couple more steps before one of the linebackers caught him from behind and hammered him to the turf. Ron was staggering a bit when the players unpiled, prompting the coach to pull him off the field.

The Upperton U cheer captain knew her craft, starting a rousing routine to maintain the excitement the last play had generated. The next play only netted the Miners two more yards then Ron, who only had the wind knocked out of him, brought in the next play. Coach Hartmann decided that a little trickery was in order. Roger pitched the ball to Ron, who sprinted for the sideline. The Chadron fans cheered and the Upperton fans groaned when it became obvious that he wasn't going to be able to turn the corner. The fans swapped exclamations when Ron suddenly stopped and threw the ball back to Roger. With the Eagles defense closing on Ron, nobody was back to cover the Miners' receiver. The result was a very easy touchdown pass.

The Upperton U band broke into the Miners' fight song as their offense trotted off the field. Even the normally reserved Jean Stoppable jumped to her feet and cheered. Ron winced as he pulled off his helmet.

"You holding up okay, Mad Dog?" Jeremy asked the underclassman.

"Yes, to all three of you," Ron answered.

"We got the score, that's what counts," Coach Hartmann declared, approaching his offense. "Get ready for more of the same, Stoppable. As long as they decide to key on you, we'll be faking your way."

"That sounds painful," Ron replied.

"Suck it up, Stoppable, it's for the team. Now, let's talk about the blocking..." the coach started to go over the various positions, critiquing everybody's performance.

Soon, the Miners' defense managed to stop the Eagles' offense, forcing a punt. The Miners' offense returned to the field and continued to use Ron primarily as a decoy. While Ron continued to take a beating, the offense continued to move the ball. This time, the offense was forced to settle for a field goal. Ron was really feeling the pounding by the time he reached the bench.

"Good job Stoppable," the coach greeted him. "They're still keying on you, but we're hurting them enough that they're going to have to play honest or keep getting smoked. In fact, we're going to push it a little more. Next play, we run a flea-flicker deep fly pattern."

Despite his growing bruises, Ron was forced to grin.

* * *

"Wow, we've never seen Kim do that before," Jim and Tim exclaimed, as the Upperton cheer squad finished their latest routine. The routines' finale had featured Kim, after a running start and a boost from two teammates, launching into a triple summersault with a double twist and being caught by two other squad members.

"She seems to have brought her tumbling up a notch," Anne replied. "But I don't like the way those cameras have been focusing on her." Anne gestured to where one of the press members seemed to be paying more attention to Kim than to the rest of the squad, or the action on the field.

"The logo on the side of the camera says Celebnet," Tim pointed out.

"Why is a national level network covering a small college game?" Jim asked.

"Wait a minute!" The twins exclaimed, in unison. "Isn't Celebnet the network that carries Rita Richards' show?"

"I think it is, boys," James Possible pointed out.

"That cameraman just showed up," Gene Stoppable added. "And it's already the second quarter. What's he been doing during the first quarter?"

"Probably covering the protesters," Jean Stoppable answered with a sniff. "All fifteen or so. He probably arranged them so that he could angle the camera to make it look like there was a horde." Upon seeing the odd looks her husband and prospective in-laws gave her, she had to add, "I'm in public relations. You can arrange a small crowd to make it look more impressive...or so I've heard."

There were some bemused looks directed in Jean's direction until the Miners managed to intercept an Eagles pass bringing their offense, with Ron, onto the field. The Eagles' defense was caught somewhat off guard when the Miners' offense didn't huddle. Roger took the snap and handed the ball to Ron, well behind the line. The wide receivers angled towards the center of the field, as if they were moving into position to block the secondary defenders. Suddenly, just as the Eagles' were converging on Ron, the running back spun around and flipped the ball back to Roger while the receivers broke into full out sprints downfield. One of the corners was too eager to contain Stoppable, so one of the receivers was wide open.

Upperton's fans jumped to their feet once again, celebrating the long, easy touchdown. Ron extricated himself from another pile of Eagles and trotted down the field to celebrate the score.

* * *

"He's hurting," Kim murmured to Marcella, between routines.

"How can you tell?" The older girl asked.

"I've been with him since we were four," Kim reminded her friend. "He doesn't want anyone to know, but he's feeling this game."

"Sounds like someone's going to have some quiet cuddling at home instead of wild dancing at one of the frat houses tonight," Marcella commented, slyly.

"Actually, we've got some fam time this afternoon," Kim replied, with a gesture towards the combined families. "I'm sure they're going to want to take us out to dinner and spend some time with us."

Lisa called for another routine; keeping Kim focused on her own duties. The redhead made a mental note to make sure that the ice packs were waiting in the freezer, since Ron was sure to need them later tonight

* * *

The flea flicker play made an impression on the Eagles' defense, prompting them to pay more attention to all of the Miners' offensive players. Without his opponents keying on him, Ron was able to pick up more yards. The freshman dominated the second half, picking up most of his yards and helping to seal the Miners' victory. Still, he heaved a massive sigh of relief when the final buzzer sounded.

Kim, Ron and the visiting family members met up on the sidelines, after Ron exchanged some pleasantries with his competitors and teammates. Of course, Hanna was he first to reach the young man.

"Brudder win!" The little girl shrieked, bouncing up and down around the grinning running back. Ron, his helmet tucked under one arm, scooped his sister up with his other arm. The curious child grabbed the helmet, which was just fine by Ron as it freed up a hand to embrace his mother and shake hands with his father and Mr. Dr. P. The small horde quickly decided to meet back at the teens' apartment in an hour, to give their oldest kids enough time to shower and get dressed. Hanna, however, didn't want to be separated from the brother she had missed so badly. The adults agreed to meet up with Kim, Ron and Hanna at the Athletic Center, so that Hanna could perform the vital job of holding Ron's helmet as he carried the toddler. Kim, of course, claimed Ron's other hand. Thus, the two teens were happily walking hand-in-hand when they left the field and ran straight into the protestors.

"Aristocrats!" One of the sign-brandishing young men shouted in the two teens' faces. "Just because you're a jock and you're famous, you get your own place! That's not fair to the rest of the students! Our tuition pays for your life of leisure!" Several more ragged looking young adults closed in, screaming slogans and using language that Ron didn't approve of...off of the field.

"Adulterers!" A roar sounded over the din, as a few middle-aged men and women approached. "Fornicators! This how you spend your fame, by making an example such as this? May you burn in eternal damnation for leading our youth astray!"

Both groups surrounded the teens, thwarting their efforts to sidestep them. Kim wanted to argue their case, to explain that they weren't costing the University a penny by living where they were and that they were properly chaperoned. She quickly realized that such an effort would be wasted. Both groups were full of self-righteous anger and weren't about to listen to reason. Kim had learned, some time ago, that some people cherished their own victimhood and the chance it gave them to complain in public, more than they cherished friends and family. Kim did her best to place herself between Hanna and the increasingly profane protesters but there were just too many. Realizing that something was very wrong, the little girl began to cry. A very angry expression found its way upon Ron's face and the blonde tensed up, ready to fight.

"Ron, calm down!" Kim snapped at her partner. "This is what they want!" The redhead was painfully aware that there were several cameras, probably with direct feeds to Rita Richards, pointed at them. If Ron; enraged by the protestor's taunts and Hanna's tears where to unleash, the repercussions would be terrible. Kim literally seized her boyfriend's free arm and tried to lead him away from the confrontation but the protesters surrounded them, giving them nowhere to go. Ready to face the worst consequences, Kim picked out the thinnest point in the mass of angry humanity, ready to punch a hole for Ron to carry Hanna through, when Jeremy and several other football players arrived.

Using superb teamwork, the Upperton U Miners slipped through the crowd and surrounded Kim and Ron. Once the teens and the toddler were safely sealed behind a wall of football-padded humanity, the team set course for the Athletic Center at a brisk walk. While the protesters were still shrieking in self-righteous anger, they weren't really prepared to take the confrontation to a violent end. They contented themselves with voicing their grievances as their displeasure's subjects left. Finally, the protestors took several minutes to describe their complaints to the waiting cameras before breaking up to go off and enjoy the remainder of a beautiful Saturday.

Hanna calmed very quickly once the team shuttled Kim and Ron into the Athletic Center's relative quiet. Team Possible thanked the football players, who shrugged off their assistance as no big deal. After all, shuttling the trio through the crowd was much less strenuous than getting the Mad Dog through a team of angry Eagles. Several of Kim's squadmates were also present. One cheerleader tried to take Hanna from the exhausted Ron, but the little girl wouldn't be separated from her brother. Fortunately, it only took a few minutes for the Possible minivan to arrive. Mrs. Stoppable took Hanna, freeing the teens to shower off before meeting their parents, later; at their house.

"Are you sure you're dating Ron for Ron?" Marcella teased Kim, once the redhead entered the locker room. "Or are you just dating him to get close to his sister?"

"She's a cutie, alright," Kim grinned back. "But I think I'll keep the guy."

"Kim, I'm sorry I didn't help you out there," Marcella apologized. "Most of us were going to help you but..."

"But the football team was already on the way," Kim interrupted. "And if things turned violent, they're all big, burly guys who are wearing protective padding. They had the sitch in hand so there's no need to feel sorry about it. You guys were waiting for us when we got here, even though Hanna wouldn't let Carla here take her away from Ron."

"I thought he'd be tired," Carla protested. "I wasn't trying to upset her."

"It's okay," Kim smiled. "Hanna's really close to her big brother. She has him pretty well wrapped around her finger."

"Almost as bad as you do," Marcella added. "You two really have it bad for each other."

"What can I say?" Kim shrugged. "We fit each other."

"Not criticizing," Marcella explained herself. "Just stating a fact. I hope I can be that crazy about a guy someday. Anyway, what are the two of you going to be doing for the rest of the day?"

"The 'rents will probably take us out to a nice restaurant, which will give dad plenty of opportunities to tell Ron about black hole probes."

"He still goes on about that?"

"It's more of a joke than anything else. He actually likes Ron a lot. After my nana cleared up a little misunderstanding last winter, he's actually pretty cool about us being together...at least as much as an overprotective father can be."

* * *

Fortunately for the teens, the protestors had cleared out by the time they finished showering, so they had a peaceful drive to their house. There, they met up with their parents and chaperone.

"Okay, Kimberly, Ronald," Mrs. Stoppable addressed them, as soon as they walked into the house. "How long have these protestors been demonstrating against you?"

"A few showed up the second week of classes," Kim admitted. "The first couple of days there were about twenty or so, then the school officials stated that you had to actually be a student to demonstrate on campus. After that, there were only a handful of protestors."

"This was the largest group I've ever seen," Ron added. "Warren, the cameraman and reporter from Middleton, tipped us off that Rita Richards had spread the word that she would have some cameras here to cover the demonstrations today. To be honest, we haven't seen the older people complaining about us living in sin before today. I guess campus security didn't kick them off since it was game day and the campus sort of welcomes visitors for the game."

"What do the demonstrations usually look like?" Jean Stoppable asked.

"They're usually not so confrontational," Kim shrugged. "They usually yell at us a little bit but they've never actually confronted us before. I always thought that this sort of went with the territory. After all, we have a lot of fans so we're bound to have a few people who hate us."

"I don't think so," Anne Possible contradicted her daughter. "This campus has hosted students and faculty who have some...very checkered pasts. These people didn't face the public outcry that you have. There must be something more."

"Well, I've heard that Rita has been giving Kim some grief on her show," Ron admitted. "I don't watch her show but some of the guys on the team say that they've caught her broadcasts and she talks a lot of trash about Kim. She says that Kim demanded a separate house and that the university gave it to her just so the regents could claim a celebrity in the student body. She also claims that this house is costing the U thousands a month and that strange people are showing up here."

"Is she still on about Kim and Shego?" Mrs. Possible rolled her eyes.

"Not so much Shego," Ron answered. "She's just hinting that...people...show up here. I guess she's hoping her viewers will use their imaginations and keep tuning in until she reveals who is showing up."

"_Is_ anyone showing up?" Mr. Possible asked.

"Of course not, Daddy!" Kim replied with as much indignity that she dared express to her father. "Even if we were that way, which we're not, there's no way Ms. Hatchet would allow anything immoral to take place in this house!"

"Yeah," Ron added. "The Hatchet is sharp."

"What?" Ron demanded, after noticing that everyone was staring at him with pained expressions.

"Speaking of Shego," Tim mentioned, hoping to take the attention away from Ron's remark.

"You should meet our new science teacher," Jim chimed in. "She looks a lot like her."

"Except that Miss Go isn't green," Tim added.

"And she's really nice," Jim finished.

"Miss Go?" Kim asked. "Could she be related to Team Go?"

"I'm not sure," Mr. Stoppable mentioned. "But she's living about a block away from us. The police checked her background, since the two of you have a rather antagonistic past with Shego. They wanted to make sure that Shego hadn't disguised herself and moved to Middleton, in an effort to take revenge on your families. Officer Hobble stopped by and told us that Miss Go's appearance was simply coincidence."

"And she's a really good science teacher," Tim added.

"Yeah we're in advanced placement, so we get to take her chemistry class," Jim continued.

"We can't wait to take physics next year," they concluded, together.

"Now boys, we're all getting distracted from what we came here to do," Dr. Anne Possible chided her sons. "We're going to take Kimmie and Ronald out to a nice restaurant, so that we can discretely pump them for information about their academic and private lives."

"Mom!" Kim protested.

"You were expecting it, weren't you dear?"

"Well, yes, but it seems ferociously wrong for you to come out and say it."

* * *

Trudy Dementor was having a great time. The girl was in one of Berlin's most happening dance clubs, partying with her friend Elisabeth Minated. The two rushed onto the dance floor and started to gyrate to the techno-beat music. Losing that stupid contest on Senior's Island had been the best thing to happen to her. Life was grand!

Since her father had rushed off to prison, shrieking in relief at escaping Camille, Trudy had taken over his operation. Much to her surprise, Elisabeth hadn't been upset with her for using their on-line friendship to track her victim. Business was business, the smuggler's daughter had said, and shouldn't be taken personally. Instead, the older woman had made some interesting suggestions and offers, which had benefited the young physicist a great deal.

Under Elisabeth's guidance, Trudy had established a small but efficient manufacturing center. Trudy was ready to start building high-end items and make a great deal of money but Elizabeth had counseled her against such activities. Elizabeth told her to start with small, simple items, in order to gain experience. Trudy started by building very small but efficient personal communication devices. Sure enough, she found flaws in her manufacturing procedure but since her product wasn't terribly expensive, she was able to correct the flaws without experiencing crippling economic losses.

Now she was spreading her wings, so to speak, building more complicated and expensive items and making more money. The short-term personal shield she had invented was selling well, and proving to be worth every penny. Sure, the powerful energy field it generated could cause anyone wearing it for an extended length of time to become sterile but that was a small price to pay for being bulletproof, wasn't it? Besides, she was a criminal who sold her products to other criminals. Sterilizing the world's criminal element could almost be considered a public service.

Trudy pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and started to dance. Feeling a pleasant buzz from the Absinthe she had just drunk, she concentrated on the music. The floor swarmed with people of roughly her age and she smiled when a couple of cute, young men showed a great deal of interest in her and Ellie. Trudy didn't worry since Hendle was back at the table, keeping an eye on her. Hendle was very capable, allowing her to cut loose and enjoy herself while making sure nothing unpleasant happened to his employer. Trudy threw cautions and let herself indulge in pure decadence.

* * *

He just couldn't seem to fit in with the crowd around him. It wasn't the age factor, since he was neither the oldest nor the youngest in the club. It wasn't a question of being able to dance, since some of the finest instructors in Europe had spent a great deal of time instructing him in the finer points of the activity. Somehow, he just couldn't get comfortable with the scene around him. Young people were dancing with abandon, enjoying themselves to an extent that he just couldn't match. Still, a mission was a mission and he knew that he was a golden hottie. He did his best to fit into the crowd and closed in, discretely, on his quarry: a couple of young blonde women dancing together.

* * *

Hendle didn't know what he didn't like about the fit, well-groomed young man that was getting closer to his charge. In some subtle way that the bodyguard couldn't understand, the young man didn't seem to fit in with the gyrating horde on the dance floor. Maybe it was that, or the fact that the young man was exactly the type that Trudy favored: curly-haired, tanned and athletic. The term 'prude' didn't apply to Hendle. He was honestly fond of his employer and simply hoped that she had fun with her dalliances. His job wasn't to keep the boys away from Trudy, it was to keep the wrong boys away from her. Somehow, something about _this_ young man's demeanor told Hendle that he wasn't just a young buck out for a hookup. Somehow, Hendle knew that the man just didn't belong on the dance floor.

* * *

He felt a surge of elation when his quarry glanced his way, then did a double take and flashed him a smile. He allowed himself to return the smile and executed a pirouette, showing off his body. The intelligence had been right! Trudy Dementor was interested in him! Still, this was no time to rush things; he had all night and wasn't about to make a sudden play and arouse her suspicions. He continued to dance, doing his best to fit in, and edged tangentially closer to his prey.

* * *

Hendle found one of the club bouncers and pointed his chin and the suspicious young man. The bouncer contemplated the man for a few moments then nodded.

"He's not one of the usual crowd," the man said. "And he isn't here with any of the regulars. He's not here for a good time, I can tell that."

"What's he doing?" Hendle asked.

"I don't know,' the bouncer confessed. "But it isn't anything I want going down in my club. I don't mind the guys showing up and trying to pick up the girls. Heck, that's why some of the girls show up, isn't it? This guy isn't here to have a good time, I can tell it."

"So what happens now?" Hendle asked, flexing his neck and causing his upper spine to crack.

"He gets _**invited**_to leave," the bouncer replied. "Along with a couple of others who are here for something other than the party. Thanks for pointing this one out; I owe you a drink."

"Later," Hendle grumbled. "I'm on the clock right now."

* * *

He was about to succeed! Trudy Dementor was done glancing at him and was now in full-fledged 'check out the goods' mode. He might not really fit in with this scene but some things were universal. Now was the time to slide a little closer and start dancing _**with**_ her rather than _**near**_ her. Flashing his most alluring smile he gyrated closer...

And felt a hand suddenly seize his shoulder and spin him around. Before he could protest, a burly bouncer hustled him off the dance floor, across the seating area and out a back door. He only had a few minutes to wonder what had gone wrong when a few other patrons experienced forced exits from the same door.

* * *

Trudy Dementor didn't notice the commotion on the dance floor. To be honest, the dancing was so energetic that it would be difficult to distinguish the dancing from an all-out brawl. She looked for the young man who had caught her eye a few minutes ago but couldn't spot him. She shrugged her shoulders, there were plenty of other, unattached young men around so she was sure to hook up, if she felt like it. If not, she and Ellie would meet up two weeks from now, in Milan, for another party.

* * *

Grumbling and snarling at the club, the evicted, would-be partyers stormed out of the ally. After clearing the immediate area, the young man met up with his partner, who had been one of the other evictees.

"Another failure," she remarked. He hardly needed to be reminded.

"I'll phone in the report," he informed her, pulling out his secure mobile. "Agent Du isn't going to be happy."

* * *

_A/N:_

_On to chapter two. Again, I'd like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed this story. My biggest thanks go to Joe Stoppinghem for his outstanding Beta work. _

_Until my next posting, best wishes:_

_daccu65_


	3. Addressing the Problems

Chapter 3: Addressing the Problems

"Report, Agent Du."

"Another failure," Global Justice's top agent admitted. He winced as his superior closed her eye and took a deep breath. Dr. Director wasn't one to harangue her agents, which made her disappointment all the more painful.

"Agent Du," Dr. Director said, after opening her eye. "Have I somehow failed to inform you how vitally important it is to place someone in Trudy Dementor's confidence?"

"No, Dr. Director."

"I am perfectly aware that you have a less than complimentary attitude towards Drew Lipsky's capabilities. However, do I need to remind you that we've tested his claims?"

"No, Dr. Director. I personally oversaw testing Dementor's short-term personal shields. They provide complete, if short term protection against bullets, tazers and even our shock watches. If these become standard equipment among the villain community, all law enforcement agencies will be in a great deal of trouble."

"Very well, Agent Du, now that I have assured myself that you grasp the situation's gravity, I can expect results. Since you have already attempted to infiltrate all of our available agents and have only managed to expose them, you will personally infiltrate yourself into Miss Dementor's confidence."

"I will attempt to do so and I will fail, Dr. Director."

Dr. Director had learned a long time ago to listen when her top agent admitted his inadequacy. However, she hadn't forced her way to the top of her clandestine organization by being touchy-feely with her staff. "Explain," she ordered, curtly.

"Trudy Dementor and Elizabeth Minated live highly isolated lifestyles," he explained. "Elizabeth lives on Senior's Island, surrounded by Senior's security and surveillance. While we considered it possible to infiltrate his staff, we considered it highly unlikely that any infiltrator would be able to perform any meaningful activity or glean useful information without being discovered. Besides, the Mediterranean Navies remain in place to keep him in line."

"Go on." While Dr. Director was well aware of the situation on Senior's Island, having personally reviewed and approved Du's diagnosis, she wasn't about to complain about Du wasting time. She recognized him building a logical case.

"Trudy Dementor is almost as isolated," he continued. "She has taken up her father's operations, which gives her the benefit of the security measures her father put in place. While we have managed to infiltrate a single agent into this operation, he is a very low level functionary and will take years to work his way to a position of influence or confidence."

"So both Trudy and Elizabeth have formidable security and screening at a professional level," Dr. Director commented, even though she was aware of the conclusions. To her, knowing her agent's method of reaching a conclusion was almost as important as the conclusion itself.

"This is why we determined to infiltrate the young women's personnel lives, rather than their professional organizations," Du continued. "As such, we were confronted by the fact that they take relatively little leisure time. However, they spend most of their leisure time together, attending these rave parties. While this seems to give us the advantage of being able to target the women simultaneously, we have been unsuccessful."

"Why?"

"None of our agents fit in well with the young, hip, urban and self-indulgent lifestyle that goes along with the rave scene," he admitted. "I include myself in this assessment."

"How hard can it be to infiltrate the young, club scene?"

"It isn't hard to get in the clubs," Du shrugged. "Our agents are attractive and affluent enough that the doormen admit them into the clubs. Once in the club, they are able to approach and, on two occasions, even started conversations with the targets. However, someone is spotting something...off...about our agents. The club bouncers quickly kick them out of the clubs. As per our operational parameters, we immediately reassign our agents to avoid further suspicion."

"What's giving our agents away?" Dr. Director asked, then immediately regretted asking the question. If Du knew the problem, he would have already corrected it.

"I do not know," Du admitted. "And AARs with our agents have failed to definitively define the problem. I personally suspect that our agents' extensive preparation is working against us, in this instance."

Dr. Director stifled a sigh. She couldn't blame Du for efficiently implementing parameters that she had established herself. Her infiltration agents were highly trained and could fit into almost any social setting. She had infiltrated her agents into academic elite circles, working-class bars, technological circles and almost every social gathering in between. What she and Du had never predicted was that a threat, whose only accessible point was in the rave scene, would ever emerge.

"Your recommendation?" She prompted.

"I was going to attempt to recruit some ravers but such people are notoriously unreliable for our purposes. I would have to recruit a large number in order to assure at least a single, reliable agent. Such action risks additional exposure."

"Because we have to assume that our own organization has been infiltrated," Dr. Director added. "At least to a certain extent. If we change our usual method of operation and recruit multiple ravers, the criminal element might be looking for them when we put them in the field." She paused for a moment. We'll have to make sure we get someone who can fit into this scene on the first try and establish a proper cover that will fit this recruit into the lifestyle. We will have to perform both actions at the same time."

"I would say that this is a very unlikely prospect but I suspect that you have someone in mind," Du had a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Indeed, Agent Du," Director favored him with her own, tight grin. "Your first action will be to contact Cocoa Banana."

"The clothing mogul? That makes sense, since we're trying to infiltrate a very fashion-conscious crowd, but I don't think he has the emotional grounding to perform the operation."

"He's not the infiltrator," Director corrected her agent. "He's a facilitator. He'll be part of the support structure that puts our agent in place."

"Then who is the agent?"

"You are, Agent Du."

"Ma'am, I still don't think I will be able to fit in with this crowd, even if I have the proper clothing."

"You won't have to," now Dr. Director sported an obvious smirk. "Mr. Banana will empower another agent to provide your cover."

"Who is this second agent?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Agent Du. Now, contact Mr. Banana and tell him he's about to acquire a new model for his European shows. If he protests, tell him it's for the public good. He's emotional but good-hearted. He'll jump at the opportunity to make a contribution."

* * *

"You sure you're okay?" Kim asked her boyfriend as they climbed out of the Sloth. One of the nice things about both of them having afternoon activities was that they could get together for the ride home. Still, Kim was concerned for her BFBF.

The beating Ron had taken on Saturday truly manifested itself yesterday. When he shambled out of his room to join her for breakfast, he was in obvious pain. Kim had simply yanked off his pajama top to reveal a torso mottled with deep bruises. Ms. Hatchet hadn't even protested Kim stretching the 'clothing removal in close proximity to each other' coefficient James Possible had previously established. The teens strapped some ice packs on the worst bruises, which allowed Ron to finish his schoolwork during the rest of the morning. They did some relaxing, stretching exercises in the early afternoon. Ron had been limber enough that they managed a long walk that evening, enjoying the fall colors and the crisp, cold air.

As was the norm with such injuries, Ron had stiffened up overnight. Even though a full day of classes had loosened up his abused muscles, football practice had to have been rough. Even though Coach Hartmann knew all about Ron's battering and had certainly kept the contact to a minimum, Ron had to be suffering. As usual, he went out of his way to conceal it.

"I'm fine KP," he assured her. "I was just wondering why we didn't see any protesters on campus today. You'd think that they would try to keep up the momentum after getting on camera Saturday."

"Okay, that's a little puzzling," Kim admitted, as the two collected their book bags from the trunk. "I know that the non-student protestors couldn't actually protest on campus today but you'd think the 'fairness for all' crowd would have been waving the signs."

"Maybe I shouldn't be worrying about it," Ron admitted, holding the door for Kim to enter the house. "I mean, it made for a peaceful day but I just can't help but think that they're saving up something bigger."

Kim frowned slightly as she walked up the stairs to drop off her books. For as long as she had known him, Ron Stoppable had been an optimist. Now, his pessimistic expecting disaster bothered her. The redhead checked her clock as she neatly arranged her books on the shelf above her desk. She had three subjects that she absolutely had to study tonight and two more that she needed to study either tonight or tomorrow. She resolved to take care of the three subjects quickly, then see if she could get Ron to open up a little. Knowing that Ron would be busy preparing dinner for the next half-hour, she pulled down her first book.

_**Beep beep be-deep**_. The Kimmunicator's tone interrupted Kim after only a few minutes of study.

"Go Wade."

"There's something that's about to be televised that you really need to see," the young genius informed her. "Head down to the den, I'll have Ron meet you there and I'll turn the television on to the proper channel from here."

Deciding to not think about how Wade could manipulate her television, or know which room she was in at the moment, Kim rushed out of her room and down the stairs to join Ron in the den.

"The commercial's just about over," Ron told her, gesturing to the television, where a dashing young man was falling head over heels for a lovely young woman, signaling the end of a perfume commercial.

"Welcome back," Rita Richards' voice and face announced from the appliance. "As promised, I'm back with footage from the riot Kim Possible and her sidekick inflicted upon a small university and community over the weekend."

Rita's face faded, to be replaced by a scene showing Kim, Ron and Hanna making their way from the field to the Athletic Center. Moments later, the protesters converged and confronted the teens. Kim noted that the video didn't have any audio coverage.

"As you can see," Rita's voice accompanied the video. "Numerous concerned citizens and students are voicing valid concerns about the compromises Kim Possible has forced Upperton University to accept. As the footage shows, Kim and her sidekick are attempting to sidestep these emissaries." The video showed the teens attempting to work their way past the protestors, only to have every route blocked. This was the point when Hanna began to cry and Kim had to restrain her boyfriend.

"This is proof of just how arrogant Kim and her companion have become," Rita continued her commentary. "They are attempting to use an infant, a child they claim is the sidekick, Ron Stoppable's, adoptive sister, as a shield against the public will. You can see how frustrated Mr. Stoppable became when his plans didn't quite work out. Possible, however, seems to be more savvy in restraining him. Otherwise, innocent people could have been injured and it would rightfully reflect badly upon her. Now, you'll see proof that Kim Possible has subverted another institution on this small college."

Moments later, the footage showed the football team appearing. However, Rita's footage didn't show anything after the players forced themselves through the crowd. Instead of showing the football team forming a wall of bodies between Team Possible and the protesters, then escorting the three away from the area, the coverage went back to Rita.

"We will now go to local correspondent Marla Agile for additional insight. Marla, what can you tell us?"

"Well Rita," now, Upperton's rogue reporter appeared on the screen. "Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable have been a disruptive presence on the Upperton University campus since before classes started this fall. You've already covered the fact that they must have some sort of leverage over the university's board of directors, as this institution has provided them with their own little vice den. While previous broadcasts have covered the curious goings-on at this location..."

"Strange goings-on," Ron snorted. "As in us leaving for and coming back from missions at odd hours."

Kim shushed her boyfriend as the reporter continued.

"...Yet the school administration refused to make any official comment about these activities. What your viewers might not realize is that the university has made moves to silence all dissent."

"What!?"

"Believe it, Rita. The university has suppressed the dissenters' rights to object. Right now, I have with me Mr. Ralph Logger. He represents one of the groups that are protesting the preferential treatment that Kim Possible has received. Ralph, tell us about how the university is infringing upon your First Amendment rights."

"We have a right to protest," the young man declared.

"That answers where the protesters were today," Ron cut in. "Some of them were taking interviews down at the TV station."

Kim agreed with her boyfriend but still waved for him to quiet down enough to listen.

"But the university doesn't want us to," Ralph continued. "Last week, their thugs started to harass us, demanding to see our student ID's. Not all of our members are students here and you don't have to be a university student to want things to be fair."

"Why do you believe the campus security started to harass you?" Marla asked.

"I think it's obvious. The university made a lot of concessions and bent a lot of its own rules to get a celebrity with Possible's status here. Now, they want everyone to believe that this is just one, big happy family but it isn't. Some of us are going to let the world know just how unfair it all is!"

"There you go Rita," Marla announced, with the camera once more focusing upon her. "Proof that what you were saying is true. Kim Possible has used her fame to subvert this small university, forcing preferential treatment for her and her companion. In the meantime, who really knows what goes on in that house the university, which means the taxpayer, has provided? This is disturbing news, indeed."

"Well, keep on top of the situation for us," Rita instructed the local reporter, as the coverage switched back to Rita's studio. "Now, in a lighter note, we have some strange news coming out of Central America. It seems that some locals claim a band of wild spider monkeys have attained some sort of civilization, using tools and living in huts. We now go to a contributing reporter from Mexico. Nancy, what can you tell us?"

"Rita, near the three-way border between Mexico, Guatemala and Belize, locals have spotted a band of spider monkeys that transport food in vine nets, carry wooden staffs and, if you can believe it, have constructed huts in the trees. These monkeys are very elusive and have only been seen...."

Wade appeared on the television, cutting off Nancy's report. "I've just got a call from Warren, the roving reporter," he informed his friends. "He would like to meet with the two of you..."

"Hey!" An indignant squeak sounded from Ron's cargo pocket.

"Sorry Rufus, the three of you as soon as possible."

"What's up?" Kim asked.

"He told me that he finds this hack journalism highly insulting to his profession," Wade replied, with a large smirk. "According to him, it's time to show these wannabe reporters what a real journalist can do."

* * *

Aviarius hated these meetings but he supposed that he could endure them, if they got him out of the cage (why was he using Team Go's terms in his own thoughts) earlier, they were worth it.

"Okay birdbrain," the guard smirked at him. "Inside and sit down. You got twenty minutes to meet; then it's back to your cell."

Aviarius bit back a smart remark and shuffled into the meeting room. Since he had a very keen intellect and had never seriously injured anyone, law enforcement officials were infatuated with trying to rehabilitate him. This was fine by him; he could get out, get a decent job, then start planning to steal Team Go's powers again. The only difference was that now he had an additional goal.

His thoughts were cut short and his chin nearly hit the floor when, on the other side of the glass he saw...

"Shego!?" He gasped.

"I get that all the time," the young woman replied, in a voice so cheerful it made his teeth hurt. "Do you really think that the authorities would let a criminal meet with you? No, you can call me Miss Go."

"A relative, I take it?" Aviarius asked, taking his seat.

"No, just a lookalike but we're not here to talk about me, we're here to talk about you. Now, your attorney explained what happened to you in Minnesota. Monkeyfist showed up outside your cell and demanded that you accompany him after he broke in. Since you were in fear for your life, you did so. You very quickly realized that he was a raving madman, since he kept going on and on about something called mystical monkey power and demanded that you help him acquire it. In an effort to mollify him, you told him it was possible and made a show of modifying your staff to do just that. You didn't dare turn yourself into the authorities since he had already proved capable of breaking into prisons. Even when he let you leave the farm he was using, you didn't dare defy him, knowing that he could track you down again. Finally, you were incapacitated during a confrontation with Team Possible and captured later."

"Oh yeah, that's exactly how it happened."

"Since your only crime during this sad episode was parole violation, by leaving the State of Colorado, you'll be getting out soon. As a high school science teacher, I'm more than a little intrigued by your intelligence and I'd like to help you find gainful employment."

"In a school?" Aviarius couldn't keep the self-mocking grin off of his face. "I don't think the cops are gonna let me get anywhere near kids."

"True, but I've got some contacts at a medical research facility. I think you'll be able to contribute there. Your chemistry and metallurgy knowledge is impressive and should be useful. In addition, the pay will be very good."

"Okay, I think I can go straight with a job like that, but what's in it for you?"

"Oh, I want to help you," Miss Go gushed. "And I think I can help you with something else. You like birds, what do you think about this?"

Miss Go reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny, living creature. To Aviarius, it looked like a mouse with wings.

"A sparrouse," the woman explained. "I started with a mouse and provided some genetic enhancements. It's still a mouse, it still has all of the memories it had before I started except now..." she gave the creature a light toss into the air.

Aviarius was shocked when the creature flew around the visitor's chamber and returned to the woman's hand. He well understood that it took more than wings to allow flight. Somehow, the woman had given the rodent the musculature to drive the wings enough to defy gravity. Looking closer, he realized that the rodent's hind feet looked much like a sparrow's grasping claws.

"I can do the same for you," her murmur gently intruded into his thoughts. "I can provide you with oversized eagle's wings and alter you enough to give you the ability to fly. It'll still be you; you'll remember everything and still have your keen intellect. The only difference will be that you won't need an aircraft to soar into the clouds."

"Th-th-that's c-cutting edge b-body modification," he stammered, glad that this conversation was a privileged meeting and not subject to monitoring. "I know of only one person who could even come close to that. You have to be..."

"Don't be silly! I'm just a simple high school science teacher! The woman you're thinking of owned the ranch where you were captured, didn't she?"

"How can you know..."

"After she left that ranch, betrayed by Monty and Shego, she vanished." Now, the woman's voice was no longer bubbly. Now, she sounded determined and vengeful. "I'm sure the authorities would like to find her but I can assure you that DNAmy is dead and gone."

Aviarius stared at his visitor. He didn't know why he was surprised. If DNAmy had been capable of modifying Fiske as much as she did, several years ago, she should easily be able to modify herself to the extent that she apparently had. What better way to hide from the cops than by changing your body?

"What's in it for you?" He demanded again, his eyes now fixed on the sparrouse. "What will you expect from me?"

"Nothing, silly! However, if you were to see fit to do just a little favor for me..."

"Name it!"

"Think back to when Monty found you in prison. I was wondering why you were in Minnesota in the first place then I heard some rumors that Shego was in the Mayo Clinic at the time, not a mile from where Hego and Team Possible caught you. Since you had a well-known obsession with all of Team Go's powers, I don't think it was a coincidence that you were where you were at the time. Since the authorities were keeping her location a secret, even from her own brothers, you must have had another way of locating her."

Aviarius simply stared at his visitor, keeping his expression neutral.

"Now I'm just a simple high school science teacher, so I don't have any real reason to associate with her, do I? I mean, it's not like _**I**_ was the woman she and Monty betrayed with their affair. It's not like _**I**_ owned the ranch that they lived at, like _**I**_ owned the very bed that they..." Miss Go took a moment to regain her composure. Then, with her bubbly expression and voice restored, she continued. "Let's just say that I find her powers intriguing, from a research standpoint. If I could locate her the events that follow could be most...satisfying."

"Let's say, hypothetically of course, that I can find her," Aviarius countered. "What happens then? After you locate her, what form will your research take? Will you be discrete or more...imposing?"

"I find myself growing tired of discretion."

"Is Fiske still with her?"

"To the best of my knowledge," Miss Go growled.

"Excellent. Let's say that we...exchange favors. I'll have one last favor to request."

"Go on."

"Fiske and Shego left me behind back in Wyoming," he growled. "They just cut and ran and the authorities were so happy to capture Dementor and myself, as well as recover that dimensional thing that they weren't too upset about the ones that got away. Anyway, I'd like to discuss the subjects of abandonment and revenge with the two of them...personally."

"Avers," Miss Go used the prisoner's real name. "I think we're going to get along just fine. I can't pass you anything in this room but I'll send you my card and information about the medical research facility."

"I'll call you and them within minutes of my release."

"I'm looking forward to working with you."

* * *

Shego looked into the nursery and wondered just what she was getting herself into. It wasn't that she didn't want this baby...far from it. She was every bit as determined to bring this child into the world as she was when she dragged her hung-over husband to the first specialist's visit. The problem wasn't that she had cold feet about popping out the kid.

She also didn't have a problem with their surroundings. Contrary to his earlier, frustrated declaration, Monty had quickly and efficiently rebuilt the crib, some other furnishings, and had completely refinished one of their spare rooms, turning it into a comfortable-looking nursery. The two of them had also stocked their home with all the paraphernalia; they had diapers, wipes, spit-up cloths, formula, clothing, blankets, you name it. Shego and her husband were as ready as any prospective, first time parents to undertake the challenge. No, it wasn't the upcoming difficulties or the resources they had gathered that had Shego feeling edgy.

Shego also wasn't concerned by the way her now-expanding waistline affected her efficiency as a criminal enforcer. She could still kick some serious tail and when that became awkward and dangerous, Monty was both willing and capable of stepping in for her. At first, she had been a little irritated by this idea but she came to accept it. She and Monty were a team and he would step in for her just like she had stepped in for him after he lost his monkey mojo.

Finally, she wasn't concerned with the kind of life the two of them would be able to provide for the kid. Sure, they wouldn't be able to provide some sort of idealized, 50's era family show life. This was fine by Shego. While she was a criminal, she wasn't some run-of-the-mill thug. She was a highly skilled enforcer and infiltrator and her skills were very much in demand. To her surprise, Monty's organizational skills had made him a real asset, as well. The two of them would share their lives with the kid and if the kid wanted to continue the family business, fine. If not, they'd give the kid every opportunity to make it in the world however he or she wanted. Once Shego had come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to turn into some 50's era family show housewife, she had become comfortable with the idea of raising the kid in a criminal environment. No, what irked her was that the smugglers and neighbors were treating her and her husband better now than before she had acquired her new cargo.

Shego knew that she had a very contrary mind. Things that made normal people quake in fear, like slugging it out with the princess, the thing that Amy had become, or some other supervillain gave her an adrenaline rush. On the other hand, things that made most of humanity happy, like peace and prosperity, made her grouchy. Most people would rejoice upon achieving a measure of acceptance but it put her on edge. It wasn't the acceptance per se, it was what this acceptance entailed.

Shego had started to view this house as a home.

Again, most people loved the idea of having a home but Shego knew that she couldn't afford that line of thought. She was a villain and that meant that sooner or later, she was going to have to leave, probably with very little warning. If she allowed herself to develop this sense of home, develop a connection with the neighbors, she would find it difficult to turn her back and run. That reluctance could prove fatal to a villain and with a child on the way, it was a luxury she couldn't afford. She was so absorbed with her worried musings that she didn't hear her husband approach her.

"Is something troubling you, my dear?" Monty asked, causing her to jump.

"Yeah, we're getting too settled," Shego told him. She spent the next hour trying to voice her concerns to her husband. The former British Lord offered a sympathetic ear but she didn't think that she had gotten through to him. Finally, she gave up and went to bed, determined to try again the next evening. Monty, on the other hand, didn't relax.

While he didn't show his concerns, not wanting to get his wife even more worked up, he understood her concerns perfectly. With his wife asleep for the day, Fiske rooted through some of the baby supplies the couple had amassed. Tucking the items into a backpack, he armed his home's security system and sneaked into the hills behind his property. Quickly finding the cave that Shego and he had stocked with their 'just in case we have to flee' stockpile and added the baby supplies.

He said a quick prayer, to any power that would listen to one such as him, that he would never need to use these emergency supplies.

* * *

_A/N: _

_Thanks again for sticking with me this long. I hope everyone's enjoying the ride. Again, I must thank my ever-patient beta, Joe Stoppinghem for his tireless efforts._

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Bonnie Rockwaller was beginning to regret losing the contest. Sure, Junior was vain, spoiled, childish and possessed of all the maturity of...well...Junior, but at least he tried to be nice. Instead of wallowing in idle luxury on a warm island, Bonnie found herself back in a Middleton that was empty of her friends and acquaintances. Tara was off at some college in Oklahoma and her other cronies hadn't even let her know where they had gone. The other people she knew, at least the ones who would even talk to her, were gone as well. Kim and Ron were in Upperton and Monique was somewhere on the East Coast. Bonnie, on the other hand, was stuck in Middleton.

Not that it was all that bad. The courts didn't want to ruin her life; so her probation allowed her to work and gain an education. The problem was that Middleton U had revoked her acceptance following her conviction. Determined to continue, she attended a local community college, even though it didn't offer all of the courses she needed to obtain the degree she wanted. Also, the college didn't have a cheerleading squad, so she didn't have any of the scholarships she had earned on the high school squad. Still, attending college classes was preferable to staying at home. As she had expected, her sisters took every opportunity to remind her just how much she had shamed the family name.

Irritated by her sisters and wanting to spend even more time away from home, Bonnie had gotten a job. Unfortunately for her, the only job she could find was at Smartymart; which gave her sisters even more ammunition. Not a day went by that they didn't make some snide comment about the discount center being the only place willing to take her. Shortly after accepting the job, Bonnie had pointed out that neither Connie nor Lonnie had a job, which brought into question just what they were worth. Slipping back into her Queen B mode, Bonnie then questioned the higher education her sisters had obtained, since neither had a career outside of sponging off of their parents. Verbal victory was at hand before their mother had come to her sisters' rescue, admonishing the youngest sister for not having proper respect for the older girls. In the end, Bonnie had been even more humiliated by her mother than by her sisters.

Bonnie wished that the success she and Monique had realized during the contest would have panned out into modeling offers but that wasn't the case. Well, at least not in any major way. She had a few offers but most of them were for the type of clothing that simply wasn't worn in public. Bonnie didn't have anything against trashy lingerie, in the appropriate setting, but she didn't care for the advertising strategy that the modeling agency wanted to implement. The agency wanted to make use of the negative press she had garnered and give her a slutty, bad-girl image. Bonnie had turned down the offers before she had even considered what her probation officer would think about them.

She had taken a couple of other offers, from Smartymart. With her probation officer's approval, she had modeled some business and active wear for the discount giant's sales publications. While the photography wasn't award winning and the fashions themselves were hardly cutting-edge, the extra money was nice and her agent informed her that these sales photos could generate more offers. Martin Smarty himself had declared that he wanted her to model for more of the flyers. All in all, her Smartymart experience had proven a great deal more enjoyable than she would have believed possible. She sometimes wondered if Kim or Ron had made some suggestions to Mr. Smarty.

The really surprising part of the job had been how well she got along with her coworkers. Before taking the job (and for a short time after) she thought that anyone who worked for the discount giant must be a loser, the type of person she both lorded over and avoided throughout high school. As time went on however, she found that she actually liked most of her coworkers. Forced to associate with those she would have considered undesirable just a few months ago, she found out that they weren't defective people. Okay, there were a few creeps that wanted to score with her and a few go-through-the-motions-to-buy-the-daily six pack types but she was pretty sure there were a few of these in any workplace. What shocked her was that so many of her coworkers were friendly with no ulterior motives. They simply wanted to do their jobs and getting along with the coworkers made the day a little more bearable. She was honestly tempted to join some of them, after work, to bowl, shoot pool, or some of the other things she had considered 'loser' activities before her fall.

Unfortunately, she couldn't. While her probation officer encouraged her to hold a job and seek higher education, a social life was out of the question for now. She hung her red vest in her locker and checked out, keenly aware that the clock had just activated an automatic timer. If her subdermal chip didn't register with the receiver at home within a half-hour, an alert would automatically show up on the Middleton Police Department's central computer. This half-hour gave her plenty of time to take the bus home but it didn't give her time to dally about. She took a deep breath, already bracing herself to face her sisters again.

"You know, Bon-Bon… We would really appreciate it if you came in the _**back**_ door," Lonnie greeted her, when she arrived home.

"It's bad enough that we have a convicted criminal living here," Connie added. "But she's also a minimum wager and a bus rider."

"I guess you lose your pride when you don't rule the high school," Lonnie mused. "Too bad we're still around to see how far the family has fallen."

Bonnie choked back a pretty good remark about how it was, indeed, a tragedy that her sisters hadn't found jobs or husbands. Any remark she made would only result in her sisters ganging up on her, which would prompt her mother to take their side.

"Did the mail come yet today?" She asked, instead.

"Oh, looking for some coupons?" Connie tittered.

"No, I..." Bonnie's remark was cut off by her mother.

"Bon-Bon!" The middle-aged woman called to her. "There's a man on the phone for you! He has a rather high-pitched voice."

"Oh, flirting with the teenyboppers?" Lonnie giggled. "I guess your sort have to settle for whatever they can get!" The elder Rockwaller siblings laughed at the put-down.

"Hello," Bonnie answered the cordless her mother handed her.

"Bonnie Rockwaller!" A familiar voice enthused. "It's so good to catch you at home!"

"Cocoa Banana?" Bonnie gasped. Then after a moment, she regained her composure. "What can I do for you?"

"Cocoa` Banana?" Connie gasped to her sister. "It can't be..."

"_**The**_ Cocoa Banana?" Lonnie finished. "Why would _**he**_ be calling _**her**_? It can't be!"

"If I could impose upon you, I was hoping that you'd be so kind as to model for me," the eccentric designer informed the teen.

"Well, o-o-f c-c-course," Bonnie stammered. "It would be wonderful to model your merchandise."

"I know that it's short notice and you are in school," he continued, in a pleading tone. "But I need a model very badly."

"Cocoa...I mean, Mr. Banana, I said yes!"

"Modeling for Cocoa Banana?" Connie demanded, with her chin almost on her chest. "How can _**she**_ be modeling for Cocoa Banana?"

"_**The**_ Cocoa Banana!" Lonnie added.

"I'm soooo delighted, Miss Bonnie!" The designer gushed. "I so much need a fresh, young model to support my European tour!"

"Eh...European?" Bonnie deadpanned.

"European?" Lonnie matched her tone.

"Watch the little disgrace mess this one up," Connie snickered.

"M-M-Mr. Banana, I'm afraid I can't go to Europe," Bonnie sobbed. "I'm on probation and I have to stay in Middleton!"

"Don't just hang up on him!" Lonnie snapped. "You're not the only prospective model in the house!"

"Yeah, good looks run in families!" Connie added.

"That's already taken care of!" Cocoa insisted. "Very shortly, a young man of authority will arrive at your home! He will explain how you can come to Europe and model for me and still meet your probation. Please, Miss Bonnie, tell me that you will join my fashion tour. It won't be the same without you!"

"I…I'll be sure to join your tour," Bonnie assured him. "As long as I can do so legally."

"What!?" Connie demanded.

"She found a loophole?" Lonnie added.

"The young man will have all the information," Cocoa happily assured his prospective employee. "I look so much forward to seeing you in two weeks!"

"Just how do you know Cocoa Banana?" Connie demanded, as soon as Bonnie turned off the phone.

"_**The**_ Cocoa Banana!" Lonnie added.

"Oh, I met him a few days after the homecoming game last fall," Bonnie informed her sisters, in an obviously false, off-hand voice. "I met him again during my probation extra-credit work, when I modeled for the young designers' contest."

The doorbell rang, but Mrs. Rockwaller called out that she would answer, which left Bonnie to face her sisters' grilling.

"Why didn't you put in a good word for us?" Lonnie snarled. "We can model just as well as you can!"

"Yeah," Connie added. "Sisters are supposed to help each other out!"

"Help each other out?..." Bonnie began to snarl before mustering a haughty chuckle. "Help each other out? Thanks Con, you just gave me the boost I needed…" Noticing her sisters look of confusion she continued, "Club Banana sells teenagers' fashions," she continued, in a polite tone. "Since I'm only nineteen, I'm still a teenager. I thought you had outgrown teenybopper styles."

"You know darn good and well that we'd take a modeling job!" Connie growled. "You're just being mean!"

"What are we supposed to do now?" Lonnie demanded. "This could have been our big break!"

"Well, Smartymart will probably have a position available in another two weeks," she suggested.

"Quit trying to be smart with us!" Lonnie snarled. Bonnie hid her smile and braced herself for the continued, verbal assault.

While Bonnie was facing her sisters' ire, her mother found herself facing a very polite young man.

"Good evening, Miss Rockwaller," he greeted her. "My name is William Du and I'm here on business regarding your sister Bonnie's probation. Is she available?"

"Oh, I'm-I'm not her sister, I'm her mother," Mrs. Rockwaller stammered. For a moment, she seemed to forget what the man had said until she remembered that he was here to see her youngest. "Bonnie! There's a very polite young man here to see you!" She called, before ushering the visitor inside.

Connie and Lonnie weren't about to halt their assault simply because Bonnie had a visitor. They followed her to the front door, sure that a Smartymart coworker had come to visit. Seeking more ammunition to unleash on their sister's self-respect, they fully intended to insult the young man's looks, income and social status, in front of Bonnie. They both stopped suddenly upon seeing the handsome, well-dressed Will Du.

"Miss Rockwaller," Will greeted the teen as soon as she arrived. "My name is _**William **_Du and I'm working with your probation officer. I understand that you have an employment opportunity that could take you out of Middleton, which would ordinarily violate your probation. I'm here to assure you that we have no intention of stifling your future. I'm sure that we can come to some sort of agreement that will allow you to advance this career while still paying your debt to society. I hope we can negotiate at this time."

"Certainly A…I mean William," Bonnie took a moment to grasp the fact that Will didn't want her family to know he was a GJ agent. "Perhaps we could speak in the Dining Room, _**in private**_."

"Okay, how do we know that he's really a probation officer?" Lonnie demanded.

"Yeah," Connie agreed. "For all we know, this is some sort of set up so Bonnie can run away from her probation and disgrace this family even more!"

"Mom…" Bonnie began to protest.

"Your sisters have a good point, Bon-Bon," Mrs. Rockwaller said. "This very polite and charming young man just appeared out of nowhere. For all we know, he's trying to set you up to take you away. Imagine what could happen to you if you leave with him!"

"Perhaps I can prove myself Miss…excuse me, Mrs. Rockwaller," Will suggested, handing the Rockwaller Matron a business card. "Simply call your sis…your daughter's probation officer. I won't even provide a phone number, so you know that I'm not having you call some sort of false department. The probation officer is aware that I am meeting with Bonnie and will vouch for me. You can also feel free to call on your home phone, cell phone and even a public phone, so you know I'm not intercepting your calls. Finally, I'll be happy to meet you at Bonnie's probation officer's office tomorrow, to meet with her in person, so you know everything is above the board."

"Well, I can't argue with all that," Mrs. Rockwaller nodded. "I'll call while the two of you are meeting in the Den. Connie, Lonnie, come with me, please."

"But mom…" Connie started to protest.

"Let's not ruin your sister's chance to further her career and turn her life around," the elder Rockwaller cut off her daughter, which shocked Bonnie to no end. Bonnie received a second shock when her mother, facing away from Du, glanced pointedly between her and the agent. Clearly, the elder Rockwaller was entertaining some ideas about her youngest daughter and the disguised agent. Bonnie pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and ushered the houseguest into the Rockwaller Dining Room.

Bonnie wanted to start questioning Du the moment they were in the Den but the agent motioned for her to remain quiet. He closed the doors and activated his listening device inhibitor before politely motioning for Bonnie to take a seat. While he was the guest, Bonnie had to admit that he was trying to be a gentleman, so she sat down.

"You kind of laid it on a little thick with mom," Bonnie informed him. Then, she broke out into a wide smile, "but it worked perfectly. That's the first time she's ever sided with me over my sisters."

"I was just trying to be polite," Will replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, you've probably deduced that I don't want your family to know that I'm a Global Justice Agent."

"Which probably means that Cocoa Banana doesn't really want me to be a model," Bonnie grumbled.

"Let me be honest, Miss Rockwaller. Global Justice is in need of your services yet again. We have contacted Mr. Banana, who has graciously extended the modeling offer you received earlier today."

"Meaning I won't really be modeling for Club Banana," Bonnie muttered, the hurt in her voice very plain. "…Cocoa doesn't really want me."

"On the contrary, Miss Rockwaller. If you accept this assignment you will indeed be a Club Banana model. This means the long hours and hard work that go along with the job. As for Mr. Banana, while he was ready to do us a favor, he was delighted when he realized what we wanted. According to him, you have a future as a model anyway, so he'll just be polishing you a little. You won't be one of the headline models but Mr. Banana's offer is genuine."

"And what does Global Justice get out of the deal?"

"An honest and valid question. Miss Rockwaller, " Du replied with a nod and a look of respect for the young lady. "For reasons that I will keep secret for now, Global Justice wants to get an agent close to two of your former competitors, Trudy Dementor and Elisabeth Minated."

With a real puzzled look Bonnie asked, "How is my modeling for Club Banana going to help this?"

"The two of them have become close friends. They like to spend their free time at some of the trendiest clubs in Europe. If you model for Club Banana, you will be welcome in such an environment. Since these two young women know you, we find it very likely that they will invite you to associate with them. This will place a Global Justice agent in position to collect information."

"So you expect me to spy for Global Justice?"

"Not directly. A Global Justice agent will pose as your companion. You will fit in with the young, stylish crowd in which our targets spend their leisure time. Your presence will provide a plausible reason for your companion to be with you."

"Companion? Who will this companion be?"

"Ah, that will be me, Miss Rockwaller."

"You?" she responded a little louder than she had intended. "You're going to accompany me across Europe?" After a brief pause Bonnie smiled at the agent. "In what capacity are you going… to accompany me?"

"That's one of the details we're going to need your input with. I'll be honest, Miss Rockwaller. Global Justice isn't prepared to infiltrate the environment in which our targets are the most subject to infiltration. While I expect to pose as some sort of assistant or guard, I'll be willing to assume any role that gives us the greatest chance of success. Since you will be conducting extensive preparations for the Club Banana European Tour before we attempt to establish a friendship between you and the two targets, we'll be able to work out my role ahead of time."

"What if we decide you're going to be my boyfriend?" Bonnie asked.

"Then I play that role, _**in**_ _**public**_."

"Last question, where does this leave me after Global Justice gets what it wants? Do I come back here to be Smartymart's employee of the month?"

"What happens to you is up to you," Agent Du informed his potential recruit. "Global Justice will forward an official, letter of appreciation to your parole officer. In addition, you will have several months of modeling experience, along with the pay and exposure that comes with it, for Club Banana Europe. This should promote your modeling aspirations." Du gave the teenager a very serious look. "You've done very well with your circumstances, Miss Rockwaller. A lot of girls in your situation would have grabbed the easy money and fame that those…less than upstanding...modeling agencies offered you. Instead, you chose to rebuild your reputation. Trust me, Miss Rockwaller, this assignment will help you re-establish your reputation even more."

"Okay, I'm in," Bonnie told him. "I'll give my boss notice tomorrow."

"I'll let our modeling consultant know your decision so she can start working with you. I wasn't kidding, Miss Rockwaller, you're going to work very hard." Agent Du paused. "I'm more than a little impressed that you will even bother to give Smartymart notice of your impending departure. That says a great deal about your character."

"She isn't a bad boss," Bonnie shrugged. "And besides, it will give me a chance to tell her that Connie and Lonnie are looking for jobs." Suddenly, Bonnie had the same grin she wore before putting Ron down, in high school. "I'll tell mom that working at Smartymart gave me the modeling opportunity in Europe. I'm sure she'll remind my sisters about it everyday, repeatedly."

* * *

"Kim, Ron, thanks for coming," Warren greeted the teens as they entered the small meeting room.

"Ahem!" A small voice announced, from Ron's pocket.

"And Rufus as well," Warren added. "Sorry about that."

"S'okay."

"Please sit and I'll introduce everyone," Warren said, gesturing the teens towards a table where four other people were sitting.

"First I'd like to introduce Assistant Dean Kevin Lindon," a middle-aged man nodded in response to Warren's statement. "Since Rita's innuendoes have been affecting the university and we're meeting in a university facility, he's here to represent university interests."

"As well as assisting two students," the assistant Dean added.

"The young man next to Mr. Lindon is Stan Buckler," Warren continued. "He represents Fairness on Campus and is visiting us from the University of Colorado.

"You probably haven't heard of us," Stan nodded towards the teens. "Since we didn't have a branch at this university until a couple of weeks ago. We've become concerned with our Upperton U affiliate's actions."

"I'd also like you to meet Miss Jody Floer," Warren nodded to the only girl sitting at the table. "She represents the Campus Christians."

"Mr. Lindon and Warren tell me that I really shouldn't have anything against your housing arrangements," she told the teens. "Contrary to what I've heard."

"Finally, you probably know Pete Stern, from the campus newspaper."

"Warren tells me that I've been getting some bad info," the student reporter told the teens. "I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt."

"That's what we're here to accomplish," Warren told the assembled group. "For those who don't know me, I'll say right now that I hate trash journalism. I take pride in reporting the story, the whole story, no matter how many toes I have to step on to do it. In my mind, two things make for trash journalism: The first is reporting part of the story and the second is trying to become the story. Rita Richards and her little disciple Marla are doing both. I take great pride in my trade and I absolutely hate it when insiders shred it to make an easy buck. Now you all know my motivation and you'll all see why I've asked each of you to meet here today. Let's start out with Stan. Stan, please explain what your group is trying to accomplish."

"Fairness on Campus seeks to eliminate the preferential treatment some students, particularly athletes, receive," Stan told the others in the room. "Major sports powerhouse universities tend to treat the student athletes like royalty; housing them in athletes' dormitories, feeding them in athletes' dining facilities and even going so far as to invent classes and courses just for the athletes. This sort of preferential treatment has contributed to a low graduation rate and a higher crime rate, since these athletes think that they are above the rules."

"You realize that most student athletes graduate and go on to jobs that have nothing to do with sports," Ron interrupted.

"Yes I, and my organization realize that," Stan countered. "But those athletes tend to compete in the less glamorized sports, like track and field and water polo. While Upperton U has kept on the straight and narrow pretty well, some other institutions, including a couple in this very state, haven't. I'm here because Upperton U, one of the honest institutions, seems to be slipping with the two of you."

"Perhaps I can answer this," Mr. Lindon offered. The Assistant Dean proceeded to explain why the teens (and naked mole rat) were living off campus and how the school had gained the house.

"So their living arrangements aren't costing the University anything?" Stan demanded.

"Not a penny," Mr. Lindon assured him. "Their preferential treatment, as you call it, has been completely financed by an outside source. In fact the university will wind up ahead, financially. We don't have to pay for the property or the maintenance but will still gain an off-campus domicile, to use at our discretion, after Kim, Ron and Rufus choose to move out."

"But they're still receiving preferential treatment," Stan insisted.

"What else could any party do?" Mr. Lindon asked. "Kim and Ron have as much right to attend this university _**and**_ take part in the extracurricular activities, as any other Colorado High School graduate. You claim that you promote fairness. Is it fair to deny them attendance at this institution?"

"Well no," Stan admitted, now sounding much less sure of himself. "But couldn't they have simply skipped football and cheerleading? These aren't exactly required courses."

"Neither is political activism," Mr. Lindon pointed out. "Would it be fair to you if your university accepted you only under the terms that you could never form or join a politically active organization, especially when other students could join such a group?"

"Well, no..."

"Very well young man, so tell me how this university could have handled the situation better, in the time allowed."

"I really can't think of anything," Stan admitted. "But what about Fairness on Campus's local chapter? Why didn't you explain this to them?"

"I did. Most of your organization came to the same conclusion that you just have. A handful of diehards hung on, refusing to accept the fact that we were doing our best to be fair to Miss Possible and Mr. Stoppable while addressing everyone's concerns."

"I have a meeting scheduled with these holdouts later today," Stan told the older man. "I want to catch their side of the story before I decide anything."

"Fair enough, Mr. Buckler," Warren nodded his approval at the young man. "Now, why don't we address your concerns, Miss Floer?"

"Thank you," the young woman replied before addressing Kim and Ron. "From Mr. Lindon's explanation, the two of you have a chaperone."

"A chaperone that can hear everything and anything," Kim commented.

"At one hundred paces," Ron added.

"Through walls," a tiny voice, from Ron's pocket, concluded.

"So you're not living in some...morally questionable...circumstances?" Jody prompted.

"No, we're not!" Kim snapped. "And by the way, just what business do you have with our personal lives?"

"On the surface, none," Jody kept her gaze very steady. "But you have to admit that you have attained a great deal of influence."

"What does that mean?"

"Do you know how many girls and young women imitate you? I did a little number crunching and found out that the number of girls going out for cheerleading squads has increased over thirty percent since you've attained your heroine status. In addition, more girls are enrolling in advanced science and math classes, as well as taking up martial arts. While other factors may have had some influence upon these numbers, any reasonable observer has to conclude that you are setting an example for these very impressionable young girls."

"Science, math, cheerleading and martial arts are bad...how?" Ron asked.

"They are very positive, Ron but this same influence Kim has over these girls could very easily become negative."

"Like how you think we're living in sin," Kim concluded.

"Kim, I'm going to say something that's going to sound very odd coming from a religious fundamentalist. I'm looking at the Ten Commandments as a group of good ideas for behavior within society, rather than a moral code. Even with this more relaxed interpretation, you have to admit that unsupervised cohabitation, at your age, isn't a very good idea."

"We're chaperoned and furthering our education," Kim protested. "Why isn't this a good idea?"

"A casual observer isn't going to see the chaperone," Jody answered. "A casual observer, fueled by Rita Richards' reports, is going to think that you're living with your boyfriend. How many young couples could start shacking up because they see you living some idyllic, carefree life? The only problem is, they won't have the history that the two of you have."

"History?" Ron was confused.

"Ron, I've done some research on the two of you, so I can tell that you probably can't understand how vulnerable most young women can be when they choose to live with their boyfriends. You aren't the type of person to take his frustrations out on whoever just happens to be present. Add to this is the fact that your girlfriend is perfectly capable of besting you in a physical confrontation. I understand that the two of you exert an extreme amount of effort to keep your grades up, excel as athletes and take on your missions.

Jody paused to interpret Kim and Ron's reaction. Seeing that they were realizing the implications, she continued.

"However, most impressionable young adults will only see two of their peers living an idyllic, sensual life. When they find out that this life actually takes effort, understanding and compromise, they become upset. When they become upset and they're not mature enough to deal with the frustrations, they can become violent."

"And you think this will all be our fault?" Kim asked.

"Domestic abuse and unplanned pregnancies are serious, social issues," Jody stressed. "And we can't just pretend that some of both aren't caused by role models living a lifestyle that just isn't in the cards for some of their admirers. As a result, these youngsters place themselves in very bad situations."

"You've been talking about me," Kim pointed out. "What about Ron's impact on the young men?"

"Kim, I mean no disrespect towards your companion, but he simply doesn't have the fame that you do. Dozens of websites follow your exploits, Club Banana and other clothing retailers continue to sell apparel that looks suspiciously like your mission clothing and _Kim Possible_ costumes are going to be among the top ten selling Halloween Costumes this year, for the fourth year running. Girls like to emulate their heroes: in academics, appearance and lifestyle."

"We're not giving up college, football and cheerleading over the chance that someone's going to make a mistake with their life." Ron protested.

"I'm not asking you to do so. However, I'd like to see you expose all aspects of your academic life. Tell everyone why you live in the same house and introduce your chaperone. Tell everyone which degrees you are working towards earning and what you hope to do with your lives after graduation. In short, I'd like to provide full disclosure and let those young people who admire you see the hard work and discipline as well as the rewards and fame."

"That's exactly what I had in mind," Warren stepped in. "Full disclosure is the best counter to a smear campaign and that's what Richards is running right now. Kim, Ron, if we don't do this; the innuendo is just going to keep growing and that means more protests and other disruptions to both your lives and the university's operations."

"There's no guarantee that coming clean will stop these rumors," Kim pointed out. "And it will publicize more of our private lives than I'm really comfortable exposing. It's not that we have anything to hide but I still don't like telling the public things that really aren't anybody's business but ours."

"True, there's no guarantee it will get better," Warren admitted. "But if you don't do anything, I can guarantee that the rumors will only get bolder, to put things politely."

Kim looked at her boyfriend, who nodded at her unspoken question. "We'll do it," the heroine said.

"Okay, I assume you'll want me in on the 'let's come clean' story," Pete Stern chimed in. "So I'm willing to bet that you'll answer most of my questions during the interviews and tours. However, I have a couple of concerns I'd like to air before we go any further."

"Shoot," Warren told him.

"Okay, is there anything to these rumors that strange vehicles have been showing up at your house at odd hours, bringing visitors for...well...let's just say a variety of unsavory reasons?"

"Vehicles have been showing up," Kim admitted. "But they have been showing up to pick us up for and drop us off after missions. We went on three last week."

"A delivery van picked us up for one," Ron added. "A Global Justice hoverjet picked us up for the second which, by the way, we parachuted back after that one. It was late and we didn't want the noise to disturb the neighbors. A National Guard helicopter picked us up for the third one."

"That's how a good rumor merchant operates," Warren told the younger reporter. "They deal in half-truths rather than outright lies. Note that Rita and Marla are claiming that these strange vehicles are showing up and dropping off shady, unsavory characters. The neighbors will confirm that the vehicles are showing up at odd hours, giving these rumors some credibility. Notice that Rita and Marla never ask the neighbors to describe the people who get out of the vehicles? That's because they would be describing Kim and Ron."

"And we're going to be asking the neighbors all of the questions?" Pete asked.

"That's a good reporters job," Warren told him, using a very serious tone. "Everyone, Rita and Marla will probably say that I'm enamored with Team Possible. To a certain extent, I am. They've given me a lot of good stories over the past few years. However, I'm really doing this for my profession. Fair but tough journalists are vital for a free society but Rita and Marla are dragging us down by masquerading gossip mongering as legitimate investigating. I'm willing to risk my career, not for Team Possible but for my profession's future. I'd like to schedule two interviews and meetings with Team Possible and their chaperone, at the house in question. The first one will be this Thursday evening and the second will be Saturday, after the game. Can everyone make it?"

Everybody around the table nodded.

"Good, we'll broadcast the footage the following Monday, in prime time. I can't wait to see how Rita responds."

* * *

_A/N:_

_Again, I must thank my ever-patient Beta, Joe Stoppinghem, for continueing to labor at this story, even at the expense of his own writing. For those of you still reading this humble tale, I must thank you as well. I must extend a special thanks to Katsumara, screaming phoenix, CajunBear73, JCS1966 and Sentinel103 for reviewing every chapter so far. Thanks guys, you make it easier to keep writing. _

_For everyone, thanks again and, until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Again, the combined Stoppable and Possible clans were on their way to Upperton for the football game but this time it was the mothers who were insisting on an early arrival. While all four adults had graduated from various universities or colleges, none had gotten into the sports scene. However, both Anne Possible and Jean Stoppable had been exposed to an aspect of football that they had never expected. Put bluntly, after one Saturday, the Possible and Stoppable matriarchs were tailgating addicts.

Anne Possible was an accomplished brain surgeon, and proud of it. Jean Stoppable was a highly paid and sought after marketing strategists, and proud of it. However, both women also took a great deal of pride in their cooking skills and liked to show them off. The whole idea of dragging their families to Upperton on a Saturday morning to socialize with other players' and cheerleaders' families, as well as former players and fans, animated the middle-aged women. The two chatted amicably, with Anne driving and the husbands dozing in the minivan's middle seat, all the way to Upperton. They were so excited that they didn't even go to Team Possible's house, they drove straight to the stadium, found a good spot, and put their husbands to work helping them set up.

Although James, Gene, Jim and Tim all grumbled a little bit, they really weren't upset about being there. The autumn air was crisp and cold, the sun was bright and more people were arriving. Before long, Hanna had staked out a good spot to watch the twins and some other young teens playing a game of touch football. Her parents and the Possibles set up some folding chairs, inviting other fans to join them for food and conversation. As per Upperton U tailgating etiquette, they made the visiting team's fans feel particularly welcome. It wasn't long before they had plenty of people visiting them.

Kim Possible was world famous and bore a strong resemblance to her mother. As such, a handful of other tailgaters and early-arrivers recognized her parents, especially her mother. The result was a steady stream of other fans showing up to exchange pleasantries. In addition, Ron had made a name for himself among those who followed football in Upperton U's conference. The visiting school's fans made a point to visit the parents of Upperton U's best offensive weapon. Most told Gene and Jean that while they understood that Ron was a fine young man and wished him well, they really hoped that he would strain a hamstring early in the game. Of course, the comments were accompanied by smiles that let the Stoppables know that the comments were good-natured kidding.

"Excuse me, reporter coming through," an arrogant voice called through the milling crowd. Moment's later, Marla Agile stood in front of the two sets of parents, her cameraman right behind her. "Mrs. and Mr. Possible," she greeted them. "Would you mind talking about your daughter for a few minutes?"

* * *

"Okay, make sure to catch the entire conversation, from all parties," Warren whispered to his soundman. The two men, accompanied by Pete Stern, had taken up a vantagepoint on a scissor-lift in the parking lot. A casual observer would assume that they were simply getting some pre-game footage. Instead, they were focusing on Marla.

"Just what are you doing?" Stern asked the man whom he considered a role model.

"There's no such thing as too much information in the news business, kid. I'll tell you the whole story after we broadcast."

* * *

"This is Marla Agile and I'm here at the Upperton University stadium, pre-game, with Anne and James Possible, Kim Possible's parents. Mr. and Mrs. Possible, what are your opinions about your daughter's activities here at Upperton U?"

"I'm very proud of her," Anne Possible informed the reporter. "She's become the first freshman to make the cheerleading squad in years and she's on the Dean's List. She certainly seems to be making the most of her college experience."

"James Possible," Marla turned her attention towards the Possible patriarch. "What about you? Do you have any comments about what your daughter has been doing in Upperton?"

"I agree with my wife," James told the reporter. "Kimmie-cub has really been showing everybody that anything's possible for a Possible."

"Very good, but what about her housing arrangements?"

"I'm a little upset about the lengths she and Ronald had to go," James admitted. "But I'm happy that it worked out for them."

"By Ronald, do you mean the young man she's living with?"

"Indeed, Ronald has been with her for a long time. The two of them have helped so many people over the years that it's nice to know that someone was able to help them right back."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, that elderly gentleman they assisted over the summer. He's the one who purchased the house and donated it to the university. He's also the one who came up with the idea, which allowed them to live in university supplied housing off campus. The whole thing isn't costing the university a dime."

"Doesn't it concern you that she's taken up housekeeping with a boy?"

"Kimmie and Ronald are good kids, so I don't worry about it very much. I understand that young people can have sudden moments of weakness but that's what their chaperone is for. Finally, when it really comes down to it, if Kimmie and Ronald ever decide to do something, they'll probably do it. It hasn't been easy for me to accept this but I have to learn to trust them."

"How about the strange comings and goings around her house, at all hours of the night?"

"Kimmie has always kept some odd hours," James told the reporter. "It all comes with saving the world, I guess."

"What about the mysterious people she's been seen with?"

"Oh, I guess that's part of saving the world again, you know."

"Thank you, Mr. Possible, this is Marla Agile reporting from the Upperton University Stadium. I'll be conducting further interviews after the game."

"What was that all about?" James Possible asked his wife, as the reporter walked away. Anne could only shrug her shoulders.

* * *

"Okay, we got everything," Warren's soundman told the reporter.

"Why did you record everything Marla said?" Pete asked.

"Marla and her crew are probably going to selectively edit the Possibles' remarks," Warren told the young, reporter in training. "Rita will play the edited footage during her Sunday show. We'll play the unedited footage on Monday."

"So you're going to make Marla and Rita look bad?"

"No, kid, I'm going to do something potentially more damaging. I'm giving them the chance to make themselves look bad. Now, let's not lose Marla. I'm sure she's going to try to pick up some more material to modify. Now, it seems to me that we're at the stadium and a pretty good game is about to start. Why don't we find some good seats?"

* * *

The game proved to be a success all around for Kim, Ron and their families. First and most important, Upperton U won the game. Secondly, Ron picked up over two hundred yards in offense and came out of the game with only a fraction of the beating he had taken last week. Kim enjoyed the cheerleading performance and the families made new friends at the tailgate party. After the game, the rest of the team stood by to escort Ron, Kim and Hanna back to the athletic center. However, there were no protestors present today. Hanna carried Ron's helmet while he carried his sister to the building, where the 'rents picked up the little girl. Kim and Ron didn't notice Marla Agile interviewing Ron's parents while they waited for their son to finish showering and dressing. Finally, the teens joined their parents for their Saturday afternoon meal and the inevitable question and answer session.

The parents had just returned the teens to their house when the Kimmunicator went off.

"Adrena Lynn has broken out of prison," Wade reported. "The FBI has tracked her to Denver. They think she's in a warehouse but they don't have enough probable cause to get a warrant. They'd like you to investigate, as private citizens."

'On it, Wade," Kim answered. "When's our ride getting here?"

"Should be outside in five."

* * *

"Okay Marla, that's a wrap!" The director announced from just off the set. "We'll edit the footage and broadcast tomorrow. Oh! We just got a call-in. It seems Kim Possible just climbed onto a private helicopter. I don't know where she's going but the helicopter flew to the east. We'll try to find out what she's up to. In the meantime, we're going to get a camera team over to her house. Hopefully, we'll be able to get some footage when she returns tonight, so be on call."

"This is getting to be a real pain," Marla protested.

"You're the one who decided to track celebrity scandals," the director told her. "Scandals don't always happen at convenient times."

"I know. It's just that I'm never going to get a chance to be a little scandalous myself if I keep up these late hours."

"It's your choice," the director informed her, in a bored tone. "You can either build your career or build your social life. Let me give you a piece of advice, you'll find it a lot easier to build a social life after you become famous than becoming famous after setting up your social life."

"Yeah, I know," Marla grumbled. "It's all for the broadcast time, isn't it? Anyway, I'll be ready, just don't illuminate me very well if we broadcast tonight. I won't have time for makeup."

Summer Gale, the former weather girl…er…woman from Middleton, watched the exchange from her hidden vantagepoint, with a very angry scowl on her face. It hadn't been _**that**_ many years ago that she was in Marla's position, the popular, visible face of the local news. However, Summer hadn't been able to shoehorn her local fame into anything larger. Instead of going on to state or even national level broadcasting, she had been stuck in Middleton, a weather girl who aged into a fading weather woman.

Where Marla was establishing contacts with Rita Richards, Summer had tried to generate her own story. The 'blizzard of the century' story she had drummed up, conveniently when the stations newest, cutest weather girl was out of town, was supposed to jump-start her carrier. Instead of giving her the face time, proving that she had been prepared for this surprise storm, her venture had wound up with her leaving Middleton in shame. Fortunately, a combination of the station not wanting any more bad publicity and Kim Possible not wanting fame for something as ridiculous as fighting zombie snowmen had left Summer relatively untainted. While the network gave her the boot, she was able to move to Upperton and find a job covering the weather in her new home. Once again, nothing bigger came out of her position and she found herself aging, now past her 'camera prime'. Summer had no doubt that in a few more years, she would wind up being a 'staff meteorologist' instead of the weather reporter. With a final sigh, hoping that the little bitch Marla wouldn't have any more success than she had, Summer returned to her dressing room, determined to have a little fun on the town while Marla was confined to her apartment, waiting for a call.

"Miss Gale, how nice to meet you," a voice announced, the moment she shut her dressing room's door behind her.

"Who are you and how did you get into my dressing room?" She demanded.

"What are names, except an inefficient method of identification?" The man replied. "And as for how I found my way here, I'm assuming you mean how did I manage to get in here with nobody noticing me. The answer is an elegant application of simple mathematics. Traffic patterns within the station are subject to the laws of probability, as is the card swipe on your door. One who understands such concepts well enough can accomplish some impressive feats."

"Okay, wise guy, now tell me why I shouldn't start screaming right now."

"Because I have an offer for you, Miss Gale, one you should add up before you eliminate your options."

Summer Gale now had a good view of her visitor. He was hardly a large, intimidating man. He looked vaguely familiar to her but that didn't mean much. Even though Summer covered the weather, her presence in the newsroom meant that she saw the newsmakers. This man probably had some fame, or infamy, but not enough for her to recognize him immediately.

"What can you offer me?" She demanded, wanting to determine his identity before taking any action.

"Let me define your situation," he replied, with a very self-important sneer. "Your career is in its final stages. A female weather broadcaster will attain a national-level position by the age of twenty-seven or face a ninety-two point six percent chance of never attaining such status. You've never been shy about your aspirations to attain such a position. Since you are now considerably beyond that age you have to admit that the odds are against you ever gaining such fame."

"And you can give me this fame?" She was beginning to narrow down his identity. She was now sure he had been in the news as a criminal, not as a good guy.

"Not exactly but I can give you an alternative. I suspect that you want what comes along with the fame: wealth. I have an idea that can net enough wealth that, after you get your cut, will provide you with enough wealth to live out your life in comfort."

"So why do you need me?"

"The weather does not always follow firm, mathematical rules, Miss Gale and the weather constitutes a significant percentage of my plan."

"Okay, I think I know who you are," Summer told the man. "You're the Mathter."

"You added it up."

"Okay, just what are you up to?"

"I don't want to say before we have a deal but sometimes you just have to let the numbers go and hope you beat the odds. Miss Gale, I'll be honest. I'm targeting a gold mine in the higher Rockies. This mine ships its product out of the backcountry via some narrow, isolated roads. Unfortunately for me, the trucks are armored sufficiently to allow them to hold out against any assault I can put together, until the authorities arrive and tilt the odds against me."

"In case you're not aware of this, I'm not going to add much to your forces."

"I see you speak my language. Miss Gale, sometimes a force multiplier isn't obvious. The roads that lead down from this mine are very susceptible to the weather. A blizzard can shut them down for weeks at a time."

"So you want me to predict a blizzard so you can make your move under the cover of the weather?"

"It's not that simple of an equation. The mine's owners keep an eye on the weather forecasts and don't send the trucks out if there's a risk they'll be stranded."

"Okay, what can I do for you?"

"I have obtained a weather altering machine," the villain informed her. "But I honestly can't use it to its full potential. There are so many variables to the weather that I don't understand the interactions enough to make use of the equipment. I know that you used a similar machine to paralyze Middleton a couple of years ago."

"So you want me to use your weather machine to cut off the road?"

"Not just at any time! I want you to pick out the perfect time. I want you to unleash a blizzard when the gold is being transported out of the mine so the trucks are stranded out on the roads. For your services, I'll give you twenty percent of what we seize."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You can't, of course but we'll both have something to hold over the other. You won't get any gold if you don't deliver and if I fail to deliver, you'll be able to tell the authorities that I forced you to use the weather machine. Neither of us benefits unless we both live up to our end of the bargain."

Summer Gale considered her shrinking options in the broadcast meteorology field for only a few seconds before saying, "Okay, I'm in."

* * *

"So what is Lynn supposed to be doing?" Kim asked Wade, once Team Possible was secure aboard the crop-dusting helicopter.

"Nobody is really sure," Wade answered. "She broke out of prison and went straight for Denver. There is some sort of extreme gamers convention going on there and the FBI considers it probable that that's her goal."

"Sort of getting even with her former cohorts?" Kim asked.

"Some of the most famous extreme sports icons lined up to denigrate her after you exposed her," Wade pointed out. "And she's known to hold a grudge."

"Uh Wade," Ron interrupted. "School word alert."

"Okay Ron, a lot of the most famous extreme sports celebrities put her down, publicly, after you and Kim revealed that she was faking her stunts. She might be setting herself up to get even with some of them."

"Who all's there now that put her down back then?" Kim asked.

"Two snowboarders, a surfer, a base jumper and a free runner," Wade answered. "She was actually good friends with one of the snowboarders and was dating the free runner before you guys exposed her fraud."

"Which made their denigration all the more painful," Kim concluded.

"Eh, Kim? Using school words again."

"Live with it, Ron. Okay Wade, what's our mission?"

"The FBI would like you to enter the building and confirm that Lynn is actually there. Once you do this, they would like you to observe her actions so that they can determine what she's trying to do. The local police have already contacted the building's owner and she's given permission for you to enter the building without a warrant."

"Okay, this has me confused," Ron cut in. "Why can't either the police or the FBI simply check out the building themselves?"

"They're stretched too thin," Wade told them. "The attendees at the convention are a rowdy bunch, so the local police don't have the manpower to stake out a probable sighting."

"So we're helping out," Kim concluded. "Good enough. What else do you have for us?"

"I'm downloading building plans to the Kimmunicator right now," Wade told her. "I'm suggesting that you enter via a skylight on the roof's northeast corner. The owner will have keys to the padlock waiting for you three blocks away and a news helicopter will fly overhead as your ride drops you off on the roof, to disguise your approach."

"Just how happy are you that he's on our side?" Ron commented.

Kim and Ron spent the rest of the trip discussing the upcoming mission with the young genius, reviewing the building's layout, determining the most likely place Lynn might be staying and the best routes to reach that location. It wasn't long before Team Possible found themselves standing on the roof of a warehouse, in Denver. Following Wade's suggestion, they let themselves in through a skylight and climbed along the rafters towards an office area.

Kim and Ron put on climbing harnesses and tied themselves off on the rafters. They lowered themselves from the rafters to just above the office area's ceiling, some twenty feet below. Much as Wade had predicted, ductwork emerged from each office's ceiling and the teens were able to find some gaps between the ductwork and the sheetrock. Wade had equipped his friends a micro-camera, which could plug into the Kimmunicator. Kim and Ron were able to insert the camera through the gaps and view the various offices on the Kimmunicator's screen. Unfortunately, all of the offices were deserted.

The next location on Team Possible's list was a conference room. Kim and Ron climbed back to the rafters, maneuvered themselves to a point above their destination and lowered themselves once again. Halfway to the ceiling, they could hear voices inside but unfortunately, they were unable to find a gap between the ductwork and the sheetrock ceiling. Rufus, however, came up with a solution. The little mole rat climbed down onto the ceiling, which was able to support his weight, and examined one of the ducts very closely. Finding a seam just above the ceiling, he quietly gnawed a hole, just big enough for the camera, through the duct tape sealing the seam. Team Possible poked the camera through the hole and allowed it to trail out on its cord to the supply diffuser. Soon, they could see Lynn and several athletic looking men and women, lounging around a central table.

"I don't see why any of you have a problem," Lynn was telling the group. "We're all getting something out of this. I get my revenge against the freaks that pretended to be my friends, then jumped on the 'hate Adrena' bandwagon once those freaky teens blew the whistle. You all get to be the number one extreme sports personalities in your chosen sports after we rough them up a little."

"I don't think so," one of the young men countered. "I'm not about to kill anybody so what happens to me when the worlds number one snowboarder tells the cops that the worlds number seven snowboarder, with some friends, jumped him and broke his kneecap?"

"You'll have your face covered, you idiot," Lynn snapped back. "They'll never know that it was you."

"That's not good enough," a young woman countered. "I'm no cop but I've been busted for base jumping enough times to have an idea how they work. If we rough up that bunch, the cops are going to look for whoever benefits by taking them out of the game and that's us."

"You won't have to worry," Lynn replied. "I won't cover my face. Those freaky back stabbers will know who I am and they'll tell everybody that I recruited some toughs and jumped them. The cops will think I'm out for revenge."

"What happens when the cops track you down?" Another young man demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when the cops track you down, you'll sell us out to get your sentence reduced."

"You can trust me to keep my mouth shut."

"Trust?" He snorted. "You're an escaped felon who's trying to talk us into mugging our competitors. I don't think there's very much trust in this room, right now."

"Okay, forget trust! How much did you make in shoe endorsements last year? How much did the world's best known free runner make? Wouldn't you like to make what he does?"

"It still looks like a setup to me," another young woman grumbled. "Once you get what you want, you'll hold all the cards."

"Not exactly," Lynn snapped back. "The freaky cops will catch me, sooner or later. When they do, they'll put me back in the slammer with some additional charges. Now, if I actually admit that I recruited you to cut down your competition, that'll give the civil courts some more ammunition. Those freaks will be able to sue me for taking away their livelihoods."

"Big deal," the young woman chuckled. "You don't make a wage! What do you care if some civil court garnishes your wages when you don't have any?"

Kim, Ron and Rufus continued to watch the action on the Kimmunicator's screen. Wade, of course, was watching remotely and recording the events for law enforcement. As Team Possible observed, Lynn convinced three of the four men and one of the two women to help her. The convict was working on the one man and one woman who were holding out when Ron's trademark bad luck came into play.

Neither Kim, Ron or Rufus gave much thought to the fact that they had used a supply duct to feed their camera into the meeting room, nor did they consider that dust tends to accumulate above ceilings. A final item that the team hadn't considered was the fact that it was a cold day outside, which required the building's heating system to activate now and then.

It was this moment, as Adrena Lynn was trying to talk the last two holdouts to join her when the air-handling unit kicked on. A small, inconsequential amount of air blew through the small, inconsequential hole that Rufus had chewed through the duct's seam. This small, inconsequential stream of air picked up a small, inconsequential amount of dust and carried it directly into Ron's left nostril, just as he was inhaling. This small, inconsequential amount of dust had a predictable effect.

Ron sneezed.

"What's that?" The assembled group in the meeting room asked as one person. They divided their time between glaring at the ceiling and throwing suspicious glances at each other.

"Someone's spying on us!" One of the base jumpers yelled, jumping to his feet. "You led the cops right to us!" This last accusation was aimed at the room in general, not any particular person.

Kim and Ron shared a quick glance that communicated a complete plan in the space of a heartbeat. Both teens understood that they were incredibly vulnerable, dangling twenty feet from the rafters with a potentially hostile group below them. Kim snatched up her Kimmunicator while Rufus scrambled up Ron's sleeve, down his sweater and into his pocket. With one last look at each other, the teens tripped the quick releases on their climbing harnesses.

"Someone must be outside, above the ceiling," Lynn declared, jumping to her feet and taking her first steps towards the door. "We'll deal with whoever it…"

Kim and Ron crashed through the meeting room's ceiling in a shower of dust, broken ceiling tiles and sheet rock fragments. While it wasn't the most graceful landing for either teen, the shock and obscuring dust cloud kept anyone from noticing. Both teens were on their feet by the time any of the room's occupants grasped the fact that two people had just literally crashed their party. Fortunately for Ron, the ensuing chaos also covered up the fact that his pants were around his ankles.

"Kim Possible and her freaky sidekick!" Lynn snapped. "They were spying on us. Get 'em!"

While one of the men and one of the women hung back, the rest of the group charged the teenaged redhead. A snowboarder reached Kim first, only to be greeted with a front-kick to his chin. The man flew backwards from the force of the blow, plowing into the extreme sportsters behind him. One of Lynn's allies, a free runner, avoided the sprawling snowboarder by jumping to one side, onto a wall, then running several strides on the wall before launching himself at his teenaged target. Kim ducked his attack and spun, extending a foot and sweeping his feet out from under him. The young man rolled and sprang to his feet, barely avoiding Kim's stomp towards his chest. He quickly threw a punch at the redhead, which Kim both caught and sidestepped, using his momentum to throw him into a wall. The agile man got his feet up in time to cushion the impact and throw himself back at his opponent, even faster than she had thrown him at the wall. He spun in the air…

Just in time to catch Kim's knee with his chin. His unconscious form managed a three-quarters reverse flip, sprawling face down as Kim faced Lynn's last two allies, who had just extricated themselves from the snowboarder.

"Keep her busy!" Lynn commanded. "I'll grab the sidekick!"

By now, Ron had corrected his apparel malfunction and was ready to throw himself into the scrum. This was a good thing, because he found himself face-to-face with an angry, blonde convict. Lynn plowed into the blonde boy, trying to catch him in the same stranglehold she had caught him with four years earlier. Unfortunately for the faux stuntwoman, Ron had changed a great deal in the intervening four years.

Four years ago, Ron was a high school freshman who had just acquired his Mystical Monkey Power and was terrified to use it. Since then, Ron had gone through four years of sidekick work, three training visits to the Yamanouchi School, two seasons of high school wrestling, one season of high school football and a partial year of college football. Although he still wasn't a large man, Ron had nearly doubled his weight in those intervening four years. The young man Lynn grabbed bore only the slightest resemblance to the kid she had overpowered so easily four years ago.

When Lynn tried to hit Ron with a flying tackle, the young man dropped his weight, blocked her hands to the outside and drove his own chest into hers. This move, which had bought his quarterback some precious seconds during the recent game, sent Lynn sprawling backwards.

"Just give up," Ron pleaded to the criminal, as she regained her feet. "Don't do this."

"Shut your freaky mouth!" She snapped back, charging him again.

Lynn had gained some real fighting ability over the years. Ron blocked her wild punch but wasn't able to avoid the follow up knee to his belly. Seeing him double over, Lynn threw herself on top of him, sending them both tumbling in a mass of flailing limbs. Unfortunately for the escaped felon, Ron was nowhere near as winded as she had thought. He quickly maneuvered himself on top of his opponent, forcing her to bear his weight. With her face down on the floor, he used one of his legs to entangle both of hers. Ron got an arm around her throat and tightened his grip for a moment, cutting off her breathing. Lynn got the hint. She still snarled and swore but she gave up fighting, knowing that Ron could choke her out at will.

"You know Ron," Kim drawled, having dropped her last opponent. "It's not a very good idea to be rolling around like that with another girl, when your girlfriend is in the same room."

"I…er…I…"Ron stammered, trying to explain. Chuckling from nearby interrupted his stammering. Kim and Ron both looked to the last two extreme sports athletes, the two holdouts that hadn't agreed to join Lynn's gang. The duo had also refrained from joining in the assault on Team Possible.

"We don't want any part of this," the young woman informed the heroes. "She told us that she had a business opportunity for us. I didn't know that it would include mugging our competitors."

"Me neither," the young man added. "That's why we didn't fight when you broke in. We just want to leave."

"You're going to have to explain that to the police," Kim informed them. The sound of running footfalls in the warehouse area announced that law enforcement agents were converging on the area. "We'll report that you didn't attack us, so you should be fine."

"I'd rather not have the cops see me," the young woman protested. "But I don't think I have much choice."

Moments later, the meeting room's door burst open to admit several police officers. The Denver Police were all efficiency, taking the would-be gang into custody, recording statements from Kim and Ron and obtaining a copy of the Kimmunicator recording. Even the hardened police officers flinched at some of the language Lynn was using as they hauled her out of the building. The police released the two non-combatants, after taking their names, addresses and telephone numbers, since Team Possible's recordings proved that the two hadn't actually participated in any illegal activities. Since the police had everything under control, Wade arranged for a return ride.

The ride proved to be an elderly couple, who was driving their RV through Denver on their way home to Lowerton. Since they would pass through Upperton on the way, they were more than happy to give the team a ride, after they had helped paint their house several years earlier. The ride couldn't have been better for Team Possible as they were able to relax on the vehicle's comfortable couch. Rufus joined the elderly couple in the cab, watching the miles pass and helping the older couple eat their cheese snacks.

Kim, on the other hand, subjected Ron to an intense make out session before allowing the two to settle in for a nap. While she had been joking about Ron rolling around with Andrena, she figured that it wouldn't hurt to make sure he didn't forget what a proper make out, with the proper female, was all about.

* * *

In the age of cell phones and text messaging, being on call didn't necessarily mean staying at home.

Marla Agile considered this piece of obviousness as she ordered her second Manhattan of the evening, informing the barkeep that it would be her last. She had learned that she could deliver a good report with a slight buzz and two drinks were her limit in that regard. She wanted to be on site for Kim Possible's return home but she realized that this event could happen tonight, in tomorrow morning's wee hours, or even later. Her film crew was ready to roll at a moment's notice and they had her location and phone number. There was no reason to deny herself a social life while waiting for the little tramp to show up again. Receiving her drink, the reporter took a sip while checking out the club, weighing her options for the evening.

"What's a scandalous young lady like you doing in a scandalous place like this?" The slight thump of a draft beer being set down on the bar punctuated the question.

Marla smiled, recognizing Warren's voice.

"Well, if it isn't my part time mentor and full time competitor," she gestured for him to be seated. "What brings you to this singles' bar? Mentoring, intelligence gathering or hooking up?"

"More the first one than the other two," he answered, taking the proffered chair. "Why don't I get right to the point? You and Rita Richards are running a slander campaign against Team Possible. Why?"

"Why do you think? Ratings. Now, here's a question for you, your little hometown hero is now an adult and she's moved out of your town. Why are you still playing the gallant protector?"

"Let's just say that I hate smear campaigns."

"I resent that statement! Every quote I've produced is genuine and I've been very careful to separate opinion from facts."

"Let's not play games. You know darn good and well that you and Rita are broadcasting half-truths and partial interviews, making sure that this incomplete journalism supports the opinions you're pushing over the airwaves."

"Okay, guilty of something that isn't a crime," Marla replied, with a playful smile.

"It isn't a crime but it still isn't good journalism."

"Ugh, this discussion again?" Marla rolled her eyes. "Can you please just drop the Boy Scout mask and admit that we live in the real world? Possible is famous, probably the most famous person in the tri-city area. Not only that, she's a media darling. Now, while most people idolize her there are plenty out there that envy and hate her. These people love to see a little bit of dirt on that lily-white reputation. I'm just giving these people what they want, a little tarnish on the golden mask. So what if we suggest that she's squeezing preferential treatment out of the university? So what if we suggest that she's screwing her sidekick in some sort of taxpayer-funded love nest? So what if we suggest that she's seeing all sorts of mystery men and women? She's got enough of a good girl reputation that it isn't going to hurt her very much. Heck, you could even say that we're doing a public service. All those people who like to see her taken down a notch can talk about what a spoiled, pampered little harlot she is and feel a little better about themselves."

"So you don't think you're doing any harm, what about that near-riot last week? You know the one that an eighteen-month old girl got caught in? Ron just wanted to spend some time with his little sister, make her feel special even though he's out of the house. What happened? A bunch of knuckleheads, spurred on by your half-truths, put her in a dangerous situation! What would have happened if things had gone violent?"

"Then I would have had some more fodder for the next show," Marla shrugged her shoulders. "Don't go acting all holier than thou on me, Warren. I saw the public outcry you stirred up two years ago! How many toes did you step on when you busted that alderman for taking bribes?"

"I stepped on my fair share of toes but I did it in the right way. I showed full interviews and I kept the man's family out of it. In the end, the police had the evidence they needed to convict the man. As a result, a crooked politician went to jail, a crooked businessman joined him there and a landfill _**didn't**_ get put in next door to an elementary school. What are you accomplishing?"

"I'm getting ratings, like I told you earlier," Marla shook her head again. "I know it's hard for you to believe but not every reporter is some sort of crusader for journalism's higher callings. Some of us just want to do the job, get paid and go home. If you really think about it, I'm making you look better. Think of all the viewers out there who will be marveling about how much more ethical Warren is than that scandal reporter, Marla."

"You really don't care who you mess up, as long as you can sell your product, do you?"

"Hey, I follow the rules. I'm not out there reporting blatant falsehoods. If I was staging events and forging documents, you'd have a legitimate complaint. My viewers like open-ended innuendo and I deliver. By the way, you never told me why you're so protective of Kim Possible. Care to 'fess up?"

"Team Possible has given me some great stories over the years," Warren confessed. "So I hate it when I see someone doing a hatchet job on them. If they were to really start acting like you and Rita are suggesting, I'd be the first one in line to knock them down a peg. Instead, they're a couple of good teenagers who are trying to do the best they can and I like to show that off."

"Still the Boy Scout?"

"Maybe, but I'm also doing this for you. Marla, you have potential! You could make it as a serious reporter if you were willing to put in the time and effort! Why do you insist on taking shortcuts?"

"Like I said before, we can't all be saints. We lazy sinners make you virtuous saints look so much better. Excuse me!" Marla's phone interrupted her statement.

"Marla! Kim Possible left Denver about an hour ago," Marla's cameraman told her. "We have enough time to get to her house and get some footage tonight!"

"Pick me up at Skylights," Marla told him. "I can't drive right now."

"Duty calls," she informed Warren, putting her phone away.

"Time to smear Team Possible some more?" Warren asked. "You realize that this could all blow up in your face. Don't expect Rita to cover for you if it does. She'll make you the story if it scores her more ratings."

"Kim Possible isn't the only story I follow," she informed him. It was a true statement, if a little misleading. "I'll catch you later."

"One last thing," Warren reached into a coat pocket and tossed a glove to his companion.

"What's this all about?" Marla asked, confused.

"You'll understand later," Warren told her. Marla just shrugged, put the glove in her purse and left for the bar's front door, to wait for her crew.

Warren shook his head a little sadly before calling his own crew's foreman.

"What's up, boss?" The man asked.

"I'm willing to bet that Kim and Ron are on their way back from Denver," Warren declared.

"We didn't have a bet but you're right. You wanna stick to the plan?"

"You bet! We follow Marla's crew and cover them covering the story. Tomorrow morning, we'll get some interviews with the neighbors."

"I understand this," the foreman confessed. "But why did you meet with Marla tonight?"

"I wanted to give her a last chance to follow the high road," Warren admitted. "I hate it when a promising journalist decides to compromise her principals and take the easy road."

"You really are a Boy Scout, aren't you?"

"Not so much a Boy Scout as an honorable foe," Warren chuckled.

"I don't understand."

"I did more than try to put her back on the straight an narrow," Warren told the man. The reporter pulled out the mate to the glove he had given Marla. "I took this opportunity to throw down the gauntlet, so to speak."

* * *

_A/N: Again, my sincere thanks to everyone who has been reading my humble offering. I would like to extend special thanks to those of you who have sent me reviews and/or private messages, which help me improve my writing. _

_Of course, my fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his continued beta services._

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate you giving me a ride!" Miss Go told Jean Stoppable, as she climbed into the blonde woman's car.

"Nonsense!" The Stoppable matriarch insisted. "It's the least I can do."

"It was nice enough of you to give me a ride this morning, when you saw I was having car trouble, but picking me up after school is just so thoughtful!"

"It's no trouble at all," Jean insisted. "You only live a few doors down from us. Do you mind if I make a little detour before dropping you off?"

"Of course not! Do you mind me asking where we're stopping?"

"At our Synagogue. There's a daycare center there where I drop Hanna off when I need to take care of things away from our home."

"Hanna? You must mean that adorable little girl I've seen with you."

"She's adorable all right," Jean smiled. "But she can be a real handful, as well. She's a wonderful child but Ronnie seemed to be the only one who could really keep up with her."

"Ronnie? Oh, you must mean your son Ron. How silly of me! He played football for Middleton last year, didn't he?"

"Yes," Jean was more than a little flattered that the young woman recognized her son for something other than his association with Kim.

"So many of my students still talk about him! Stevie..I mean, Vice Principal Barkin is so proud of how he made it to college."

"As much as that man tormented Ronnie, I think that he was a real positive influence on my son. Still, things just aren't the same since he left."

"Is this the empty nest syndrome I've heard about?" Miss Go asked.

"I don't think it's the whole story," Jean admitted. "Since we still have Hanna. Still, when Ronnie was still here, there was always something happening. He was always playing with Hanna or coming home from a mission at any hour of the night. I guess I've become so used to a noisy, raucous household that a quieter, more peaceful one just doesn't seem like a home anymore. Here we are."

Miss Go accompanied Jean into the Synagogue, where the older woman collected Hanna and spent a few minutes socializing with some of her friends. When the schoolteacher tried to hold Hanna, the little girl fussed until Jean took her back. Miss Go contented herself with carrying the diaper bag back to the car.

"Mrs. Stoppable…" the teacher began.

"Jean, please."

"Okay, Jean, do you mind if I ask a question?"

"You just did, but feel free to ask another."

"Okay," Miss Go smiled. "I couldn't help but notice that Hanna didn't want anything to do with me and barely seemed to tolerate anyone in there."

"That's just Hanna. She doesn't take to people very quickly, except for Ronnie. For some reason, the moment she set eyes on him she knew he was her big brother. It's almost like they share some special link." The middle-aged woman shook her head with a sad smile. "I think that he's the reason she managed to warm to Gene, Kimberly and myself so quickly."

"Kimberly? Oh, you must mean Kim Possible!" Miss Go struck her head lightly with the palm of her hand. "How silly of me, I forgot that the two of them are dating! They're still the talk of Middleton High. Are they still together?"

"Stronger than ever. I know that they're both only nineteen but I think she's going to be my daughter-in-law, eventually. She's a wonderful young woman and she and Ronnie match each other very well. Now, we're almost home so why don't I drop you off? Will you need a ride tomorrow?"

"Don't be silly! You have a baby to attend to. I can walk from your house just fine and I'll help carry Hanna's things in. As for tomorrow, I got a call from the mechanic while I was at school. He said my car is working again." Actually, there had been no such conversation. Miss Go had faked the car trouble specifically to trigger a meeting with the kindly Stoppables.

Jean Stoppable was delighted to have company in the house. To be sure, except for the occasional visit from the Possibles, the house had become entirely too quiet for the Stoppable matriarch's taste. Of course, she invited the teacher to stay for dinner and meet her husband. After dinner, the three adults fussed over Hanna a bit and the Stoppables showed off their home. Miss Go seemed particularly interested in Hanna's Room, paying keen attention to the windows. At first, Jean and Gene thought this was a little odd but then realized that Miss Go was a young woman and was probably looking forward to having a child of her own to care for.

* * *

"Okay everybody, I'd like everyone to sit back, grab some popcorn and enjoy the show," Warren told his audience. Some polite laughter sounded from both the studio audience and the people seated on the stage. "After our taped presentation, we'll field questions from the studio audience. This is a live broadcast, everyone and while we have a ten second delay, I'd ask you all to control your grammar so our censors don't have to do too much bleeping."

"Just so everybody understands what's happening here," he continued, after the latest round of laughter died down. "Rita Richards and Marla Agile have been broadcasting what is, in my opinion, a smear campaign against Team Possible. The way you deal with half-truths and innuendo is to provide complete truths. This is where you in the audience come in. Once we're finished with our prepared broadcast, I'm fielding your questions and I want them to be tough and straightforward. Kim and Ron fully understand that they're probably not going to come out of this looking spotless, nobody is really spotless. However, we're hoping to clear up a lot of the issues that Rita and Marla are hinting at. We can't do that without impartial or even hostile questioners so, when I start asking for your questions, let 'em have it…but keep it PG rated. We'll start by playing Rita's report on Team Possible from her show yesterday. You'll be seeing the complete piece, the only editing we've done is to cut out the commercials. After all, Rita is on a competing network so you can't expect us to do her any favors."

Warren walked off to the side of the stage as a large screen descended from the ceiling. Just before the lights dimmed, he gave one last look over the roughly three hundred students and faculty gathered in the Upperton University Auditorium.

"Warren, do you really think that this will put an end to Rita's smear campaign?" Kim asked her friend.

"It won't end it but it should bring it back under control," he explained. "Rita keeps taking her shots at you because she can get away with it. If she finds herself paying a price for doing it, she'll start to think twice. Oh! Here we go."

"As promised earlier, we have the latest on the Kim Possible situation," Rita's voice announced over the auditorium's sound system. Kim and Ron looked up to the screen to see a face they had both learned to despise.

"As those of you who've been following this story know, Kim Possible has pressured tiny Upperton University, in Upperton, Colorado, to provide her with her own private den of vice. Since then, she and her live-in companion have been creating chaos in Upperton. We've heard reports of odd comings and goings at her residence, at all hours of the night. There have also been protests and near riots on the campus itself. A local reporter, Marla Agile, has taken it upon herself to monitor this situation for us. Marla, has Upperton University found the courage to stand up to this little debutante yet?"

Ron, hearing Kim's growl, grabbed her hand as Marla's face replaced Rita's on the screen.

"No Rita, not only has the University not put a halt to this ongoing train wreck but there have been more incidents occur this past week. In addition, Kim Possible's parents seem to be in denial about their daughter's behavior."

"How could two parents, clearly intelligent people and both doctors, I might add, not realize what's going on?" Rita asked.

"I don't understand it myself, Rita. The only explanation I can provide is that they've bought into the Kim Possible myth. I interviewed Kim's parents just yesterday. Her mother actually claims to be proud of her daughter and her father, even though he's disappointed at the lengths she has gone, has resigned himself to the fact that she'll do whatever she feels like doing. Let's go to our recording."

"Mr. and Mrs. Possible, what are your opinions about your daughter's activities here at Upperton U?" The screen now showed Marla talking to Anne and James in the Upperton U stadium parking lot.

"Isn't it a bit odd to watch a recording of a recording?" Ron whispered to Kim. Kim promptly shushed him.

"I'm very proud of her, she's become the first freshman to make the cheerleading squad in years," Anne replied to the prerecorded question.

"I agree with my wife, Kimmie-cub has really been showing everybody that anything's possible for a Possible." The recorded James added.

"Very good, but what about her housing arrangements?"

"She certainly seems to be making the most of her college experience," Anne replied.

"I'm a little upset," James added. "If Kimmie and Ronald ever decide to do something, they'll probably do it."

"So we have one parent who's unaware of what her daughter is doing and the other parent has acknowledged that he has no control over her?" Rita asked.

"It would seem that way and she's not the only one. Her companion, Mr. Don Ablestop, has parents every bit as unaware or uncaring as she does. I also interviewed his parents. His father states that he's very happy that Don managed to go to the same school as Kim and that she's been a wonderful companion to him over the years. His mother seems a little more aware of what's going on, expressing concern over the beatings he's taken over the years. However, she agrees with her husband that Kim has been a wonderful companion for him."

"Even though he's taken horrible beatings, both on these missions and on the football field, in an effort to impress her?"

"I don't understand it myself, Rita. Apparently, the Ablestops are willing to trade their son's well being to ride Miss Possible's coattails. This is a truly sad situation, made all the sadder by the fact that they seem unaware of all the odd comings and goings at the house Kim forced the University to provide for her. With all due respect to this young man, he's not that much to look at, so it's only a matter of time before she moves on. Where will he be then?"

"This is truly troubling, Marla, we can only hope that Miss Possible's dysfunctional lifestyle doesn't injure either Mr. Ablestop or an innocent bystander at Upperton University. Have there been any further reports of her associating with unsavory characters?"

"Unfortunately yes," Marla answered. "Shortly after the game, witnesses reported seeing her with an escaped convict, Adrena Lynn, at a vacant warehouse in Denver. This is just one of many sightings that have been made in recent weeks, reporting Kim associating with criminals or questionable characters."

"When will the mass media realize that she's not the role model they've made her out to be?" Rita asked.

"Let's hope that someone sees the light," Marla answered.

"Okay," Rita declared. "On a lighter note, fashion mogul Cocoa Banana has recently announced a fashion show tour across Western Europe. For details, let's go to…" The screen went dark and the sound shut off.

"That was Rita and Marla's broadcast from yesterday," Warren reminded the audience. "In a few moments, you'll be viewing my counter to these claims. Okay, we have the feed coming through now."

"We now have a special broadcast from our own roving reporter, Warren," the Channel 6 news anchor declared. The view on the screen to show Warren, sitting behind a somewhat cluttered desk.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Warren's recorded image declared from the screen. "I have always taken pride in being a reporter. In our society, an active, responsible press is a necessity. I admit that there have been times that I have failed to live up to these worthy goals, so what I'm about to say to you isn't me trying to defame a competing reporter and network. I'm trying to right a wrong, as a person who has committed similar errors."

"For the last several weeks," he continued. "The well-known celebrity gossip reporter, Rita Richards, has been conducting a campaign of half-truths and innuendo against our local heroes, Team Possible. A local reporter, Miss Marla Agile, has been assisting Rita in this campaign. For the rest of this broadcast, you'll be seeing my proof of the serious claim I have just made."

"Before I go any further, I freely admit that Miss Agile works for a station that competes with my own. For this reason, I must ask everyone watching his broadcast to take any claims I make with a grain of salt, to question my motivations, to demand that I prove every claim I make and to confirm the proof I offer. That said, allow me to present my proof."

"First of all, I'd like to present you with the full interview Miss Agile conducted with Kim Possible's parents, the Doctors Possible. I want you to know, before we show this footage, that neither Miss Agile nor the two doctors were aware that we were taping the conversation. However, since they were in a university parking lot, during a public function, we did not violate their expectation of privacy. Okay, let's hear it."

The auditorium's screen and sound systems showed Marla's interview with Kim's parents at the same time that thousands of television sets in the tri-city area were showing the same image. While traffic and crowd noises were present, the interview was clearly audible. Warren played the entire interview, from when Marla introduced herself to the Possibles to when she left them.

"As you can see, Miss Agile did not fake any of the statements," Warren told the audience. "But she rearranged them and edited them to change the context. Clearly, Kim's parents are fully aware of what their daughter is doing at Upperton University and are justifiably proud of her. After speaking to Kim's parents, Marla interviewed a couple members of the Upperton U cheerleading squad. I'd like to show our footage of this discussion."

"This is Marla Agile, speaking with a high school teammate of Kim Possible's. Dear, what is your name?"

"Marcella will do. I prefer not to announce my last name on television."

"Fair enough. What can you tell me about Kim Possible's cheerleading and academic abilities."

"She's an incredible cheerleader," Marcella answered. "And it's no coincidence she's on the Dean's list. In high school, two students edged her out for the valedictorian and both of them went to MIT."

"What can you say about her companion, Don Ablestop?"

"It's Ron Stoppable and he really surprised me with how good he is on the football field. I really shouldn't be surprised, he helps her on all of her missions, so he has to be a lot tougher than his high school reputation would have suggested."

"Would you say that Kim has been impressed with Don…er…Ron's accomplishments on the field?"

"I think she's impressed with the way he really stepped up his game, both on and off the field. About halfway through their junior year of high school, he really started to earn some accomplishments. To be honest, he's always been about supporting her and I think he did a lot of it so that he could help her even more."

"Even though it has cost him some severe beatings?"

"The beatings have never bothered Ron that much, as long as they helped Kim."

"Thank you, Mary."

"Marcella."

"It would appear that Miss Agile concluded, from her conversation with Marcella, that Ron is fixated upon impressing Kim," Warren's image returned to the screen. "I concluded that Ron decided it was time to step up. I'll leave it to each of you to draw your own conclusions. Later that same day, Team Possible assisted both the FBI and the Denver Police in tracking down and apprehending an escaped convict. Indeed, any witness would have reported Kim in close proximity with Adrena Lynn. However, it wasn't for the financial, social or even romantic reasons that Marla and Rita would have you believe. The following is a network affiliate's footage, showing Team Possible and Arena Lynn exiting the warehouse."

The screen showed aerial footage of several police officers carrying a trussed up and struggling Adrena Lynn out of a warehouse and into a waiting cruiser. A few moments later, Kim and Ron exited the same building, talking to a police officer and a FBI agent.

"I apologize for not including the audio portion," Warren commented, as the scene returned to his office. "But the conversation between Team Possible and the law enforcement agents is still confidential and Lynn's vocabulary wouldn't have made it past the censors."

A round of chuckles rumbled through the studio audience.

"If you want to visit the station's website," Warren continued, as a web address flashed on the screen below him. "You will be able to access police reports detailing encounters between Team Possible and various, unsavory characters during the last thirty days. The results of these encounters have been four captured criminals and an attempted robbery thwarted, even though the perpetrator managed to escape. In no case was there any suggestion of financial, social or romantic interaction between Kim and these people. Again, I urge you, the viewer, to confirm this for yourself."

"Ladies and gentleman, this concludes the recorded portion of my broadcast. We will now take a commercial break and, when we return, we will be broadcasting live from the Upperton University Auditorium. Thank you and please stay tuned."

The screen went dark before rising up, clearing the stage area. The guests that Warren had invited to take the stage, including Kim and Ron, took their seats on the stage. Two camera crews positioned themselves to cover the stage area while two mobile camera crews got ready to cover the audience. Spotlight crews prepared to illuminate anyone speaking, for the camera's benefit. Finally, a director indicated that the commercial break was coming to an end.

"Hello again," Warren greeted the camera. "We're here live, at the Upperton University Auditorium, with Team Possible, some selected witnesses and a live studio audience. Allow me to explain the show's format. I will take up the first portion by introducing you to Team Possible and to some witnesses, who will explain the rather complex interaction between Team Possible and the university. After that, we will go to live questions from the studio audience. We will continue to take questions even after our broadcast time expires and you will be able to access the continued debate on the station's website. That said, it is my pleasure to introduce Team Possible."

"I will start with Team Possible's leader and most well-known member, Kim Possible herself. Kim has asked me to give her the honor of introducing the other members, since they seldom receive any recognition. Kim, this is your chance to let everyone know how much you appreciate your team." Warren walked off to the side, giving Kim the center of the stage.

"Thanks, Warren," Kim replied, after some polite applause died down. "First and foremost, I would like to introduce Ron Stoppable." Here, Kim placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "As a Team Possible member, Ron started out by playing the distraction, watching my back and intervening whenever I needed help, providing any help I needed. Since then, he's become much more active, deliberately honing skills that I don't posses, in an effort to make us a better team. As you can see from his blush, Ron is a little modest about the role he plays."

"On a more personal note," Kim continued. "Ron continues to be my best friend in the world, a position he has filled wonderfully since we were both four years old. For about a year and a half, he's also been my steady boyfriend. He has also fulfilled this role very well and I hope that he doesn't get tired of the job anytime soon."

"Next, I'd like to introduce you to Rufus," Kim gestured to where the little mole rat had emerged from Ron's pocket and scampered up his human's clothing to stand on his shoulder, leaning against his blushing face. "Rufus is a naked mole rat and provides us with mechanical and electrical expertise in the field. Don't let his species fool you, he really knows his way around circuit boards and internal combustion engines, quite literally from the inside out. Technically speaking, Rufus is Ron's possession but we've never seen him quite that way. Since naked mole rat vocal chords don't allow for complete human speech and I doubt most of you speak naked mole rat, Ron will be answering for the little guy during the question and answer period."

"Last, but certainly not least, is Wade," Kim continued. "Wade is a little on the shy side, so he asked us to neither show his face nor use his last name. Wade is our everything support guy; he monitors my website, separates the legitimate missions from the traps and false calls, builds our mission gear for us, arranges our transportation, does research…well, you get the idea. Without Wade, we simply couldn't function the way we do. Put bluntly, Wade sets us up to succeed."

"Those are Team Possible's formal members," Kim concluded, returning to her chair. "I'd like to point out that we get a lot of support from other people and organizations. Every time someone gives us a ride, explains a doomsday device's operation, reports a villain sighting or just passes on some news to us, they've helped us. I regret not being able to recognize everyone who's helped us over the years."

"Thanks Kim," Warren said, returning to center stage. "I'm going to move things right along here. I have a list of charges that Rita, Marla and some protestors have brought up. I'm going to deal with these items one at a time and introduce others whom can answer the suspicions better than I can. First, I'd like to deal with the fact that Kim, Ron and Rufus are living in a university-supplied house, off of campus. To explain this situation, I'd like to introduce Upperton University Legal Advisor and Law Professor, Dr. Phisley. Dr. Phisley, would you care to explain?"

"I'd be delighted," the doctor answered, getting up from his chair and stepping to the center of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, shortly after Upperton University accepted Kim's and Ron's applications, we received several letters from concerned students and/or their parents. These letters brought up valid concerns that one or more of Team Possibles foes may attempt to attack them, potentially putting students, faculty and staff members in danger. I personally represented the school during the ensuing negotiations and we agreed that Kim and Ron had every right to attend this university but that they could not live on campus. Since their foes are more likely to move against them at night and away from witnesses, we concluded that their presence in the classroom and on the athletic field wouldn't pose a significant increase in risk."

Unfortunately," Dr. Phisley continued. "Kim wanted to join the cheerleading squad and Ron wanted to join the football team. University rules state that all freshmen on these squads must live in university-supplied housing. The only housing we have available for students is the dormitories, so you can all see our predicament. Fortunately, a wealthy benefactor stepped in on Team Possible's behalf. A gentleman named Senor Senior Sr. purchased a house and donated it to the university, under the stipulation that Kim and Ron could live in it for as long as they attended Upperton U. This gentleman also established an escrow account to pay for the property's upkeep, so the entire situation isn't costing the university a dime. In fact, we will gain a property once Team Possible moves out."

"Thank you Doctor, you may now be seated," Warren nodded to the man. "Next, several people have expressed dismay over the fact that Kim and Ron are living together. To address this, I'd like to call their chaperone, Ms. Hatchet, forward."

The transplanted librarian got up from her seat and stalked to the front of the stage, where she towered over the reporter.

"Ms. Hatchet, would you be so kind as to explain your duties at both Upperton U and at the house in question?"

"Sure thing," she rumbled. "I used to be the library at Middleton High, where these two…" Here, she made a gesture towards the teen heroes. "Attended high school. I don't know who had the idea of hiring me to chaperone the two of them, but they pay is excellent. Senor Senior Sr. frees up the funds from the same escrow account that pays for the house's upkeep. In addition, I'm an assistant librarian here at the university. All said, the university gains my services free of charge and I'll have my job back at Middleton High when this housing situation gets sorted out."

"Before anyone else asks, what sort of behavior do you allow inside the house?" Warren asked.

"Pretty much anything that's acceptable for a young couple in public, I allow," the chaperone replied. "I also enforce curfews, making exceptions for mission times and make sure they keep up with their schoolwork. To be honest, they're pretty good kids so the job isn't all that rough."

"Okay, Ms. Hatchet, please be seated." Warren instructed Team Possible's housemate before returning his attention to the crowd. "Now that the introductions are finished, I'd like to turn this over to the question and answer session. Although I haven't introduced them, there are several of Team Possible's neighbors and teammates here on stage with us, as well as a couple more school officials. These people are prepared to answer questions about Team Possible's behavior at home, athletically and academically. As you can see, I want to answer all questions as completely as I can. Now, like I said before, please keep in mind that this is a live broadcast, so keep your grammar appropriate."

Moments later, the auditorium transformed into a mass of raised hands. Warren picked one and started the session.

"You there," he gestured. "What's your name, who are you with and what's your question?"

"My name is Peggy," a young woman stood up. One of the mobile cameras focused on her while a soundman aimed his parabolic microphone. "And I'm a student here at Upperton University. My question deals with Team Possible's academic credentials. There's a rumor going around that the university made some concessions to snag a celebrity. Does anyone care to answer this?"

"I'd like to take this one," Assistant Dean Kevin Lindon stood up from his chair, on stage. The middle-aged man pulled some papers out of his briefcase. "I have copies of the university's acceptance calculations, the scouting report if you will, on both Kim and Ron." The official left the stage and handed the copies to the questioner. "As you can see, Miss Possible's academic achievements are most impressive, so there shouldn't be any questions about her presence at this institution. As for Mr. Stoppable, you will see that while his overall academic standing isn't as impressive as Miss Possible's, he put together a very strong improvement during his junior year, which he maintained through his senior year."

"I also have copies of their midterm academic reports," he continued, pulling two more sheets from his briefcase. "You can see that both have earned spots on the Dean's list. I hope that this proves that the two teens in question have met the admissions standards and are maintaining and excellent academic standing."

"Does this answer your question, Miss?" Warren asked. Peggy nodded. "Thank you. Next question please."

Again, a sea of raised arms greeted the reporter as the assistant Dean made his way back to the stage. Warren picked a rather burly, middle-aged man this time.

"My names Harvey," he declared. "And I'd like to know some more about these reports about weird people and vehicles showing up at all sorts of hours. Does anybody have anything to say about that?"

"That would be me," a twentysomething woman declared from the stage. "My name is Amanda and I'm one of the neighbors. The other neighbors have elected me to act as a spokesperson. We have had several incidents where odd-looking vehicles have shown up at what I'll call the Possible Residence at very odd hours. Every time one of us has observed these vehicles, Kim and Ron have either gotten on or off. Now, at night we have sort of assumed that it was the teens, since we can't recognize them in the dark. The reporter, Miss Agile, once mixed up an interview with me to make it sound like I said we didn't know who kept showing up at the Possible Residence. That's why I wanted to be here to set the record straight."

"Has anybody other than the teens shown up?" Harvey asked.

"Their parents have shown up several times," Amanda answered. "And there have been several visits from police and a couple of visits from cars with government plates. However, the people who came and went in these government vehicles did so in broad daylight, without any sneaking around. I assumed that they were there to confer with Team Possible."

"How about disruptions?" Harvey continued. "Have these comings and goings shook up traffic or made a lot of noise?"

"We had a couple of incidents where helicopters showed up at night," she answered. "And the noise woke up the whole neighborhood. We simply complained to Ms. Hatchet and the nighttime, noisy traffic stopped."

Harvey nodded and sat back down, so Warren continued the session. The next man, who had played football for Upperton U some thirty years previous, wanted someone to assure him that the team hadn't put Ron on the varsity squad to appease Kim. Coach Hartmann fielded this question, offering the scores Ron had earned on his incoming physical evaluation and his continued statistics as proof that such concerns were unfounded. The next questioner, however, brought up an uncomfortable point.

"My question is for any of the Team Possible members," she said. "First, who is this benefactor who purchased the house?"

"The man's name is Senor Senior Sr.," Kim answered. "He owns his own island in the Mediterranean."

"How did you come to know him?" The woman continued. "That house and the escrow account have to be expensive so why did he buy it for you?"

"We did a favor for him," Kim explained. "We rescued his daughter-in-law from a mad scientist. Also, we've gone up against him several times over the years."

"So he's a villain?"

"In a way. He's done some illegal things but he's mostly a bored, elderly billionaire who's looking for something to do."

"So you accepted this charity from a known felon?"

"Well…yes."

"So let me get this straight, you took a gift from a villain to live your dreams of attending college and joining these squads?"

"It didn't seem wrong at the time."

"Didn't seem wrong?" The woman demanded. "This man made his fortune on the suffering of others and you accepted his gift!"

"Look here," Ron interrupted. "Senior had made his fortune long before he turned to villainy. His fortune came from trading and shipping, not being a crook. Heck, I don't think any of his criminal schemes even paid for themselves, much less made him a lot of money."

"But he's still a villain," the questioner pointed out.

"Technically no," Ron countered. "Most nations around the Mediterranean have exonerated him, as long as he doesn't make a nuisance out of himself."

The questioner didn't have anything to add, so she took her seat. The next questioner, a young man, brought up the question that Hanna was actually Ron's daughter. Ron again stressed the fact that although he we willing to undergo DNA testing, he wouldn't ask his parents to subject his sister to the same testing unless a valid, legal request came up. "I don't mind dealing with being sort of on the edge of celebrity," he stated. "But I won't put my friends or family through the same thing. If someone comes up with a valid reason, rather than idle curiosity we'll put the rumors to rest."

"Why not do it now?" The young man asked.

"Let me ask you two questions," Ron countered. "If I were to undergo this testing and prove that Hanna isn't my daughter, what will you do with that information?" The young man couldn't come up with an answer. "Now, if it were to turn out that Hanna is my daughter, what will you do?" Again, the young man couldn't answer. "I think it's pretty obvious that Hanna's parentage isn't vital information for you to have," Ron concluded. "I'm willing to jump through a few hoops myself but I'm not going to ask my family to jump through those hoops, just because someone's curious."

While the somewhat grumpy young man took his seat, Warren called upon another young man.

"I'm directing this question to Team Possible," he stated. "If this Senor Senior Sr. fellow is a reforming villain, why did you help him? Wouldn't the various law-enforcement agencies been better served to recover his daughter-in-law?"

"We don't pass judgement on those we help," Kim informed the young man. "Besides, the information we had to work with wasn't clear cut enough for law enforcement to act. Finally, his daughter-in-law was an escaped felon herself and the man didn't want to see her immediately arrested."

"So you assisted one criminal by rescuing another criminal?"

"You could say that," Ron stepped in again. "Or you could say that we didn't think that Camille deserved what Professor Dementor might have done to her. Camille is a thief, she's self-centered and spoiled, but she's still human. Professor Dementor doesn't really think about what his test subjects are going through. Like Kim said, the various authorities didn't have probable cause to investigate. As private citizens, we were free to check into things."

"So where is she now?"

"We left her on Senior's Island, with her husband."

"You could have turned her over to law enforcement," the young woman insisted.

"I guess we didn't think of that," Kim admitted. "Anyway, Senior paid back everyone that Camille had stolen from and Camille is sort of trapped on the island. If she leaves, she runs the risk that someone will recognize her and reporter her before she can get back to her refuge."

"A luxurious, warm island in the Mediterranean doesn't sound like much of a prison to me." The questioner pointed out.

"Probably not," Kim admitted. "Still, we had made our agreement to recover her and that's what we did."

Kim and Ron weren't feeling very smug as their latest questioner took her seat. Warren called upon another young man, next.

"I'm interested in why you investigate these criminals' lairs," he told them. "Why do you guys go in, rather than national or international law enforcement?"

"It has to do with the limitations placed upon law enforcement agents, depending on the nation in question," Kim answered. "In addition, the villains who set up lairs outside of any nation's territory take advantage of the fact that most countries don't like another country's officials acting near their borders. As a result, private citizens can often act where government agents cannot. Ron and I are volunteers, acting in no official capacity…"

Kim explained the unique position Team Possible filled as investigators and infiltrators. The questions continued long after the station stopped the live broadcast, covering a wide range of topics. Finally, Warren thanked the studio audience for attending and called an end to the session. He met with Kim, Ron, Rufus and Wade (via the Kimmunicator) afterwards.

"It didn't go too well, did it?" Ron asked, glumly.

"What do you mean?" Warren asked the young man.

"I mean, the questions about not turning Camille over to the authorities and doing a favor for Senior," Ron replied. "We did favors for the criminal element and Rita's going to be able to use that."

"A little," Warren admitted. "But I don't think it's as big as you think. In fact, I'm glad those questions came up."

"Why?" Kim asked.

"Because they prove that this wasn't a carefully selected audience, made to make you look like some sort of flawless heroes." Warren told his friends. "Look, I could have filled this room up with your fans and they would have spent their time singing your praises rather than asking penetrating questions. If I had done that, the real journalists out there would have spotted it in a second and they wouldn't have been impressed at all. Instead, these same journalists are almost sure to come up with the same conclusion I reached a couple of years ago; that you're a couple of good but not perfect young adults. You've admitted your flaws and now the great adventure that so much of Rita's audience experiences by having these flaws revealed has been ruined. Rita will keep smearing you for another week or so, then she'll have to find a new target when her audience demands she report something they don't already know."

"What about Marla?" Kim asked.

"I really don't know," Warren admitted, with a sad sigh. "She had a lot of potential and I tried to get her to be a professional. In the end, she made her own bed. She's an adult who refused to listen to good advice. Her fate is her own doing, whatever it is."

* * *

_A/N: Again, my thanks for staying with me. I've really been amazed at how supportive the Kimmunity can be to an amateur writer. As always, my fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his tireless Beta work upon my behalf._

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

"Will you relax?" Bonnie demanded. "I swear you either have a steel bar stuffed down your throat or a corncob shoved up your…"

"I get the idea," Agent Will Du interrupted his charge with his hands up, palms facing her. "You don't need to complete your critique. Now, could you tell me again why I'm your 'close companion' and not your bodyguard?"

"Headlining models get bodyguards," Bonnie explained. "Background models don't, but we can arrange to have a personal assistant come along with us. I'm not the only girl who's slipped a boyfriend into that role."

"Very well then, Miss Rockwaller, why aren't I simply your personal assistant instead of playing both roles?"

"Because while a personal assistant will accompany the model to the clubs, he usually won't dance and socialize with the model. This gives you a perfectly plausible reason to be with me at all times. If I manage to hang out with Trudy or Ellie, they'll expect my close companion to be with me."

"Miss Rockwaller, if one of them invites you to their home, wouldn't they expect your personal assistant to accompany you there, as well?"

"Okay, that's another thing that has to go," Bonnie instructed the strangely naïve young man with her. "No calling me _Missss_ Rockwaller. If this is going to work, you've got to get in the habit of calling me by my first name or some sort of endearment. At the very least, you're supposed to be my serious boyfriend. Do you refer to your girlfriends as Miss?"

"I've never had a girlfriend Mmm-Bonnie. I spent my adolescent years concentrating on my academics and my young adult years concentrating on my career. I've never had much time for a social life." The agent paused. "Do you have a suggestion?"

"Yeah, talk to some of the other models during this trip, you're not bad looking so you should…"

"No, I meant about an endearing term. What have your boyfriends called you?"

"I…" Bonnie paused for a moment. "You know, I've never been so close to any of my boyfriends that we got to that point."

The twin revelations about their social lives dampened the mood in the back of the cab. Bonnie looked out the right hand window and Will looked out the left, as the vehicle made its way through Milan's sunny streets. Du had never really thought much about his lack of dating experience before. Now he found himself wondering if becoming Global Justice's top agent at such a young age was worth the sacrifice. Judging by his companion's expression, she was wondering about her own social life.

"I remember when Hope was dating some guy from the cross country team," Bonnie finally murmured, clearly still feeling depressed. "He always called her 'dude'." Bonnie snorted a short laugh. "I gave her such a hard time about letting him get away with that I mean, what kind of girl would answer to 'dude'? At the time, I really wished I'd be so comfortable with a guy that I'd let him call me something like that."

"Do any other pet names stick in your mind?" Du asked. The agent wasn't a psychologist but dealing with fellow agents told him that his charge would be best served by talking her way out of her funk.

"Ron always called Kim KP," she replied, with a sad smile. "Of course, the two of them were dating for years before they admitted it. That was kind of cool."

"BR doesn't exactly roll off the tongue," Du remarked.

"It sounds more like a disease or a bodily function," Bonnie agreed. "Josh called Tara 'angel' quite a bit. Of course, Tara has the look to pull that off. The other one I remember was Liz. Junior year, her boyfriend called her 'wench' and she called him 'knave'. The rest of the squad never figured that one out but it seemed so…comfortable and casual."

"Okay," Du nodded, after thinking a few moments. "I'll call you Rocky."

"What! That's a guy's nickname!"

"Exactly. Doesn't it suggest a certain familiarity and indulgence?"

"Well…yeah."

"So Rocky it will be. Now, given that I have a non-existent social life, could you tell me just how close we're supposed to be?"

"It's a mystery," Bonnie smirked. "We share a room but nobody except us knows if we're intimate or not. Relax Will, I don't bite…much."

"Miss… Rocky, please don't play this game. I'm going to have a hard enough time acting in an appropriate manner without you knocking me off-balance like that."

"I'm just having some fun, Will. Couples do that. Don't worry, I'll concentrate on the modeling just like a young woman with a criminal record would. I'll make sure to act like a young woman wanting to have fun when we're not on the clock. That means that I'm going to be acting romantic with you. Try to relax. If you actually enjoy yourself, you'll convince everyone that you're enjoying yourself, won't you."

"I guess I can't argue with that logic," Will answered with a smile. Still, he couldn't help but think that this mission could turn into the longest one of his career.

* * *

"Well Avers, aren't you going to invite me in?"

Avers Various, better known as Aviarius, gawked at the woman he knew as Miss Go.

"Are you sure it's safe?" He asked. "I mean, a school teacher's reputation could be ruined by visiting a parolee's apartment."

"Nonsense! I volunteered to help parolees adjust to life outside prison! Of course I should visit you and find out if you're having any troubles at the research center."

"Oh, in that case, please come in." He stepped back from his door.

Miss Go noted that he kept a neater apartment than she would have expected. She stood for a several seconds, looking at her host. Finally, the bird-obsessed man dusted off some long-forgotten manners and offered his guest a chair.

"Uh, can I get you anything?" He asked her. "I don't have much but…"

"That won't be necessary. I'm pretty sure that you've guessed that this isn't a social call."

"You're here to collect," Aviarius nodded. "You're here to tell me what you expect from me in exchange for getting me that sweet job. If I'm a good boy and deliver, you'll tell me what I have to do to get my wings. After that, you'll inform me what I need to do so you'll give me a crack at Fiske."

"Almost correct. I'm here for the first part of our payment. I want to know how I can find Shego."

"Fair enough," Aviarius grabbed a pad of paper and scribbled some figures. "Not many people know this, but Shego emits a constant, low-frequency radiation. It isn't very powerful and it varies. These are the high and low limits that I've recorded."

"How did you usually track her?"

"I had a deal with a old acquaintance in the Defense Department. I contacted him over the Internet and he fed me access to their satellites. Since I was discreet and we weren't tracking anything even moderately sensitive, nobody in the department looked into it. I have to warn you however, since Kim Possible busted me the last time, my old acquaintance has quit returning my correspondence."

"I think I can come up with something. First some satellite access, then some instructions from you."

"That's fair enough. How are you going to find satellite access without getting anybody suspicious?"

"I have my ways. After that, we can move onward with our plans."

* * *

"Okay girls, that's a wrap for today. Great workout and we'll see you here tomorrow."

Kim joined her fellow cheerleaders in a short round of self-directed applause before heading to the locker room. Lisa was right, they had a great workout. Life in general had been looking up since Warren had arranged the question and answer session two weeks ago. Just as the reporter had predicted, Rita had unleashed a final wave of desperate sounding innuendo before moving on to another target. Marla hadn't appeared on television since. The protestors had also vanished. With the relative peace, Kim discovered another potential problem. She had a rival.

Perhaps rival was too strong of a term. Faye, a fellow cheerleader, was clearly eyeing Ron, and Kim didn't know how to deal with it. The girl was a fellow freshman and although she wasn't on the varsity squad, she was good enough to be one of the alternates. Because she was practicing with the varsity squad, Faye found herself around the football team fairly often.

While this had happened before, the girls had been much more blatant about it. One of the university's better known party girls, who had a history of pursuing the school's jocks, had set her sights on the star running back after the first football game. Kim hadn't had to do much of anything. After Ron had shrugged off several of the girl's attempts to latch onto his arm between classes, he had sat her down and flat out told her that he wasn't interested in her. She had simply nodded her head and set her sights on the quarterback.

The second girl had been a rebel without a clue, the sort that wanted to one-up anyone who actually accomplished anything. According to some friendly, fellow students, this girl had insulted last year's student body president, tried to get one of the honor roll students into a drinking contest and had flirted with last year's head cheerleader's boyfriend. According to Lisa, this girl's constant flirting and lying about her success had contributed to a breakup. During the third week of classes, this girl had approached Kim and openly told the redhead that she didn't think she had earned her fame. While Kim stared at her, open-mouthed, this girl had gone on to say that she would put Kim in her place.

It didn't take long before she made a move on Ron, making a drunken pass at the blonde during a frat house party. Ron had made good use of the elusive running technique he had learned on the football field by sidestepping her amorous lunge and avoiding her for the rest of the night. Kim, on the other hand, had taken a more direct approach. She herded the loudmouth to a somewhat secluded corner and informed her that while Ron wasn't about to get rough with a girl, she wouldn't have any problems with it if she didn't back off. The other girl had openly laughed in Kim's face, with breath that would put Shego's plasma blasts to shame, before stumbling off to search for the now-vanished Ron. The next Monday, this girl had attended a self-defense seminar that Kim and Ron hosted. Kim headed off the clueless female's efforts at pairing off with Ron by pairing off against her, herself. The redhead then demonstrated just a little of what she was capable of doing while telling the offensive young woman to back away from Ron. While the offensive young woman was more than welcome to pursue her beef with the heroine, bringing in Kim's boyfriend was just low. Message delivered; the rebel backed off and set her sights on knocking down the volleyball team's best spiker.

Faye was a different matter. For one thing, she wasn't actually pursuing Ron but it was clear she was crushing on him. For another thing, she clearly wasn't interested in Ron for the status of scoring with the university's football hero or taking away Kim Possible's boyfriend. She was interested in Ron for Ron. Finally, she was being very discreet. Ron probably didn't realize he had an admirer and Kim wouldn't have noticed her attentions if Marcella hadn't clued her in. The redhead glanced at one of the clocks and realized it would be several minutes, at least, before Coach Hartmann released the football team. This would be more than enough time to take a direct approach with Faye. A hand grabbed her shoulder, interrupting her pursuit.

"Kim, we need to have a word with you," Lisa informed the cheerleader. Kim turned to see that Marcella was with the captain. "Before you talk to Faye."

Kim simply nodded while the captain led her two-squad members into the now-deserted band room. Once there, and after making sure that they were alone, Lisa got right to the point.

"Okay, I know that you're about to have a word with Faye about her crush on your boyfriend," Lisa began. "Before you talk to her I want you to understand that it's just that, a crush. She isn't flirting with him, she isn't trying to seduce him and she isn't telling her friends that he's hers. All she's doing is looking at him and wondering what it would be like to be with him, like you are now. I want you to keep this in mind before you have your talk."

Kim nodded again and turned to leave but Lisa caught her again.

"Kim, I'm not finished yet. When the squad elected me captain, I promised myself that I wouldn't get involved in anyone's private life unless it affected the squad. This is one of those times. I agree that you have to deal with this before Faye gets her courage up to actually make a move on him. However, I'd like to give you a little more information to work with. Faye's from my high school. It's a small town, so we all know each other fairly well. Faye is almost painfully shy."

Kim nodded again, considering the irony. Most people wouldn't believe that shy girls would go out for cheerleading but Kim had first hand experience. On the high school squad, Liz had been shy to the point that Kim could only recall hearing the girl say a dozen words outside the squad. Tara had been another surprisingly shy girl. In fact, the only reason her crush on Ron hadn't gone anywhere was that the blonde girl hadn't been able to muster the courage to tell the boy how she felt.

"I see that you understand," Lisa commented, catching Kim's wistful expression. "You probably ran into some of these shy girls back in high school so I don't have to tell you that cheerleading lets these girls feel beautiful and decisive for a little while. Faye is one of these girls; so painfully shy that she has trouble even talking to a guy. There's something else you need to know; our school system skipped her forward a grade while she was in middle school. Because of this, she has always been a year younger than her classmates have and this has made her shyness even worse. Not only is she a shy person but everyone around her is older and more experienced than she is."

"Now, put yourself in her shoes for a moment," Lisa continued. "You're almost scared of your own shadow and you find yourself in college, away from home for the first time and even your classmates are older than you are. Fortunately, you're on the cheerleading team and most of the girls are friendly, kind of like older sisters. Since you're a good cheerleader, you have something other than your grades to feel good about, a way to socialize with people. Now, you notice this really nice guy. Sure, he's one of the school jocks but he isn't one bit full of himself. Instead, he's friendly and good-natured. Unfortunately, he's taken so even if you could get your nerve up to actually talk to him, there's no way anything's going to come out of it. So what do you do?"

"You crush on him," Kim answered, shaking her head in agreement, remembering how she had been about Josh before getting her nerve up to ask him to the dance.

"Not only that, you kind of think about what it would be like," Marcella stepped in. "I'm not talking about the dirty dreams, I'm talking about the day-to-day stuff. You think about what it would be like to be with him. Wouldn't it be nice to have him walking with you between classes? Wouldn't it be nice to have him telling you 'good job' when you aced your calculus exam? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to gripe to him about the sadistic slave-driver who runs the squad?"

Marcella grinned at Lisa's shocked expression.

"You get the idea," Lisa told Kim, with a very pointed glare at Marcella. "Now, what happens to this shy girl, who's not really doing anything wrong, when one of the cheerleaders she considered a friend come down on her like a ton of bricks for even looking at her boyfriend?"

"She goes way back into her shell," Kim concluded.

"Exactly," Lisa nodded. "I understand that you want to have a word with her. That's fine, just remember to handle her differently than you handled those other two girls, earlier in the year."

"That was appropriate," Marcella added. "Faye's different. Her crush is something different, something cleaner. She thinks that Ron's a nice guy and she's right. If he wasn't taken, he'd be the perfect starter boyfriend for her."

"_**Starter **_boyfriend?" Kim didn't know if she should be amused or angry.

"You know what she means," Lisa said. "At the heart of everything, Ron's a nice guy who will never turn on her. He's never going to try to get her to do anything she isn't comfortable doing, he's never going to brag about how he's scored with a cheerleader and he's never going to double-cross her. That's the perfect guy for a shy, withdrawn girl to date and get to know the male animal a little better."

"So I should be cool with a girl eyeing my boyfriend?" Kim demanded.

"How much has Ron freaked out about the guys eyeing you?" Lisa asked.

This brought Kim up short. She knew that she was attractive beyond merely pretty and had long become accustomed to most guys kind of eyeing her. Most of them were fairly polite about it, but there was always the occasional jerk, who was a real boor about it. For the first time, she realized that Ron had had to come to grips with the fact that his girlfriend was being checked out on an almost continuous basis.

"Don't think that Ron hasn't dealt with the jerks, as well," Marcella told her teammate. "Word never got around to you, but Emerson really had it bad for you."

"He asked me if I was seeing anybody and I told him that I was with Ron," Kim answered. "He backed off."

"You didn't get the rest of the story. He and a couple of his buddies cornered Ron out behind the gym. He figured that if Ron broke up with you, you might be interested in him. They told Ron to keep away from you. If the stories are true, Ron's answer showed that your boyfriend has a very good imagination but a very poor understanding of the limits of human anatomy."

"I take it Emerson and his buddies didn't take no for an answer?"

"Nope. They decided to use some physical persuasion."

"How bad did Ron hurt them?"

"Wait a minute!" Lisa interrupted. "They outnumbered Ron three to one and you're worried about them?"

"Lisa, you have to understand something about Ron," Kim explained. "When it comes to a brawl, Ron's sort of a 'hold his own' guy…when he's dealing with supervillains and mad scientists' henchmen. Put him up against a couple of college thugs and it's sort of like putting a wolf up against a couple of dachshunds."

"He didn't break anything," Marcella told the redhead. "But they kind of decided to quit bothering him and Emerson decided to hit on someone else."

"Anyway, back to Faye," Lisa declared.

"I'll lead her down the garden path," Kim assured her captain. "I'll give her the 'Ron is a nice guy, look all you want but you should find another nice guy' speech."

"Good enough," Lisa nodded.

"By the way," Kim asked. "How did you get to be so good about dealing with personalities?"

"I'm a psych major," Lisa explained, before breaking out in a wide grin. "I'm specializing in studying how different personality types interact with each other. Trust me, dealing with this squad has given me tons of practical experience. I can't wait to put it to use in the real world."

* * *

Nate hated his job at times. While working for the Colorado Department of Corrections wasn't usually a bad job, there were times it was terrible. This was one of the terrible times.

For the past week, his assignment had been to perform unannounced inspections of parolee's homes. This job was, to put it mildly, the pits for several reasons. For one thing, these parolees tended to be very protective of their recently won privacy. While most parolees were fairly polite, a few could get rude and abusive and a handful had, in the past, become violent. While any sort of violent reaction meant immediate re-incarceration, this was cold comfort to a battered, bruised and occasionally injured inspecting agent.

Another issue was the parolees' housekeeping skills or, more accurately, their lack of such skills. Most of the parolees didn't like to wash dishes, sweep, mop, dust or do many of the other domestic tasks that made homes pleasant. Nate wasn't fond of mice, rats, roaches or other creatures that enjoyed clutter and decay. Ever since taking on this latest assignment, his evening showers had consisted of scouring himself with abrasive cleansers.

Heaving a sigh, he checked his PDA for his next inspection. The subject was one Edward Lipsky, otherwise known as Motor Ed. Reviewing the data, Nate wasn't pleased. According to this, Ed was a mechanic of sorts without a wife or girlfriend. This didn't bode well for the upcoming inspection's sanitation factor. Secondly, this was one big guy. While Nate could hold his own in a fight, he realized that he would be seriously outgunned in a brawl with this subject. Mr. Lipsky was a very large man. Hopefully, he wouldn't resent this intrusion. Nate took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

After a couple of minutes with no answer, Nate knocked again. After a minute or two more, he checked his PDA, which was linked to the Department of Corrections' mainframe. According to the computer, Mr. Lipsky's tracking chip was within fifty feet of the receiver, which was inside this house. There was always the chance that Mr. Lipsky was in the shower or was a heavy sleeper, so Nate pulled out his key and let himself into the house.

"Spartan," was Nate's first impression. The living room's furnishings consisted of two folding chairs, a television with rabbit ears setting on a milk crate and a fairly impressive stereo system. Surprisingly, there was no dust or grime to be found.

"Hello?" Nate called. "Anybody here? Department of Corrections inspection!"

There was no response so Nate made his way through a doorway and into a hall. Soon, he found himself in a bedroom. There was a queen-sized box springs and mattress, set directly on the floor. While the bed wasn't made, the room didn't have the 'unwashed laundry' smell that Nate had learned to recognize and loathe. Again, there was no grime to be found. The room wasn't dirty it was just…unkempt.

The bathroom door was open and there was no shower noises, so Nate looked inside. The sink and shower were both darkened slightly, as if someone had been washing oil-coated hands in the first and an oil-coated body in the second. Strangely for a single-man's bathroom, Nate noted an impressive array of hair-care products. Finally, the towels and washcloths were also very clean. Shrugging his shoulders, the inspector returned to the hallway, passed through the living room and into the kitchen.

While there were a few dishes in the sink, the room wasn't the mess that he thought it would be. Again, the furnishings were Spartan, an oven, microwave, refrigerator, dishwasher and some cabinets. The table was a folding table with a couple of lawn chairs. Nate checked the refrigerator's contents. As he suspected, most of the food consisted of frozen, heat and eat type of dishes. There was a twelve pack of beer in the refrigerator, Mr. Lipsky's parole did not prohibit him from enjoying an occasional drink, but he was clearly not a heavy drinker, either.

Nate could hear muffled music coming from the back yard, so he opened the back door and noticed that a path had been worn into the autumn-browned grass between the back door and the garage door. The music was a little louder, coming from the garage. Nate knocked on the door and again received no response. Realizing that anyone inside might not be able to hear the knocking over the music, Nate opened the door…

And was nearly knocked on his backside from the blast of ultra-loud, heavy metal music that blared through open doorway. Flinching from the onslaught his ears were subjected to, he stumbled inside the garage, where he spotted a big, blonde man working on a car's engine. Nate tapped the man on the shoulder. The big man looked at him, held up one hand in a 'wait a moment' gesture, then reached into a pocket and pulled out a remote control. A tap of a button silenced the music.

"What's up, dude?" The man asked Nate.

"Are you Mr. Lipsky?" Nate asked, tapping at one ear. He idly wondered if there were bells ringing inside the garage.

"Mr. Lipsky was my dad," the big man replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "He was seriously nothing to talk about, so I go by Ed."

"Very well, Ed," Nate replied. "I'm from the Department of Corrections and I'm here to perform an unannounced inspection."

"Oh! My attorney said someone would show every once in awhile to make sure I'm keeping chill. Feel free to check 'er all out, bro."

"I've already been through your house," Nate admitted. "Nothing seems out of place but you don't have many possessions in there, do you?"

"Nah, the house is just somewhere where I eat and crash, seriously. I spend most of my time out here."

Nate looked around the garage and saw that the parolee was telling the truth. Where the house had been sparsely furnished, the garage was lavishly equipped. It was a two-car garage with a shop area. The car Lipsky had been working on occupied one vehicle space while the other contained a row of engines suspended from a homemade but sturdy frame. The shop area held a multitude of very clean tools, arranged in a neat and orderly manner.

One of the reports Nate had read was that Lipsky had spent a great deal of money on tools and that Nate needed to confirm that the parolee hadn't been using these expenditures as a money-laundering scheme; selling the tools for contraband. Nate could see that he wouldn't have to look hard to disprove this suspicion. While looking at the shop, he noticed…

"Mr. Lip…er…Ed, not to pry but why do you have a dishwasher in your garage?"

"Dude, this is one of my sweetest mod jobs, seriously," Ed answered, with an incredible amount of enthusiasm. The big man opened the appliance to demonstrate his handiwork.

"Check it out! I replaced all the interior plastic parts with stainless steel and removed the heater. Back here," he pointed to two tanks, mounted on the wall behind the machine. "Are my solvent and oil reservoirs. This machine cleans metal tools and parts! The wash cycle seriously hoses everything down with cleaning solvent and the rinse cycle coats it all with oil! That's why all my hand tools are so seriously sparkling."

'Okaaaaay," Nate murmured. His eyes fell on the car, prompting a memory.

"Our records don't indicate that you own a car," he said, reviewing the report on his PDA. "When did you purchase it?"

"This one isn't mine," Ed answered. "I make some serious extra coin on the side by working on cars. I have the agreement right here." Ed pulled some documents out of a drawer. "This has all the tax information and everything."

"Doesn't you employer have a problem with you competing with him in your free time?" Nate asked. While he didn't really understand tax and business implications, the paperwork looked legitimate to him.

"It isn't competition, seriously. Fred works on big, diesel rigs so he doesn't have any damage with me working on the small stuff in my free time."

"I'll be honest Mr. Lip…er…Ed, I'm actually impressed. We haven't received any reports of you causing any trouble. You haven't even come close to toeing the line, so to speak."

"Hey, I never seem to get in trouble when I'm in an engine, seriously. That's why I'm putting in the extra work."

"You also keep a neater house than most parolees I deal with. I wouldn't have expected that of someone so…engine obsessed."

"Oh, the pad," Ed chuckled. "I had some fun with that, seriously. Check this out!" Ed led the way outside, to lean-to shed against his house. Opening the shed, he revealed a large engine. "V-8 engine with some serious horsepower," he told the inspector. "I dug it out of an old heap and fixed it up."

"I don't understand how this helps with your housekeeping."

"I rigged up a central vacuum system and I power it off of this engine! This bad boy develops some serious suction! Not only does it clean the house, it took care of my mouse problem."

"Mouse problem?"

"Seriously bro! I used to have a bunch of mice but once I rigged the vacuum, I just put the hose to the mouse holes and a few minutes later I had a catch bag full of some seriously peeved off mice!"

"So you clean your house with an internal combustion engine?"

"Seriously bro, doesn't everyone? I can also hook the drive train to my washer and dryer but I had to seriously gear down the output. The first time I tried to wash my skivvies, the spin cycle seriously shredded them. I had to go commando for a week before I had permission to hit that Smartymart place to buy more."

"Okay, we're getting into territory I really don't want to know about," Nate told the parolee. "What about the noise? Certainly this engine makes a great deal of noise when you use it for domestic chores."

"That's what the enclosure's for, seriously. I also beefed up the garage's walls so I can crank some serious tunes in there while I'm working."

"Very well, Ed. It seems you're adjusting pretty well to life outside of prison. Now, is there anything we can do to help you adjust better?"

"Dude?"

"Are you having any difficulties that we could help you with by easing some of your parole's restrictions?"

"Seriously dude! It'd be sweet if I had enough time after work to stop at a diner to swallow some groceries! I'm not much of a cook and the time I spend at the stove is seriously cutting down on the time I can need to get ready for winter."

"Getting ready for winter?" Nate asked.

"Building a riding snowblower, seriously dude! I've gotta Harley engine waiting to go in it."

"Ed, don't you think that's a little overkill?"

"Ed doesn't ride anything less than a hundred horsepower, seriously. Besides that, it'll throw the snow three blocks away!"

After a few more minutes of questioning, Nate came to the conclusion that Edward Lipsky was more interested in building things around internal combustion engines than he was about committing crimes. Recording his findings and observations in his PDA, the inspector also recommended that Ed be allowed to visit a diner or café for his meals. After all, Nate shuddered to think what might happen if the big man decided to use a V8 engine to cook his meals.

* * *

_A/N: Well, life seems to be moving on for everyone but we probably haven't heard the last from Rita or Marla. Thanks for sticking with me everyone, I've really appreciated the reviews and PMs. _

_As always, I must express my appreciation for Joe Stoppinghem for his long-suffering beta efforts._

_Until my next posting, best wishes, _

_daccu65_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

"Dr. Possible, there's a teacher here to see you, a Miss Go from Middleton High."

Dr. James Timothy Possible glanced up from the gravity window calculations he was working on to look at his office intercom station.

"Thanks Harold, did she say what brings her here today?" He asked the security guard disguised as a receptionist.

"No doctor, do you want me to ask her?"

"No need, Harold," James quickly instructed. If this was about what he suspected it was about, it could be embarrassing. This would be better handled in private. "I won't be in the classified laboratories for several hours and I have no classified materials in my office. Please send her in."

James Possible composed himself and adopted a very formal bearing by the time he heard the light rap on his door.

"C'mon in!"

The door opened to admit the alluring young woman whose class his sons enjoyed so much.

"Miss Go," he greeted his visitor.

"Doctor Possible!" The young woman's voice practically radiated friendly enthusiasm. "It's so wonderful to met Tim's and Jim's father!"

"About that," James began, rather nervously. "I guess I owe you a bit of an apology. I overheard them talking about their latest project and I didn't think they'd actually go through with it. I'd like to assure you that I'll pay for any damages and punish them appropriately."

"I don't understand…" Miss Go began.

"They're really good boys," James Possible interrupted. "I know you hear that about every child but I want to assure you that it's true. It's mostly my fault; I don't always keep close track of what I develop here at the Space Center. So you should really blame me. After all, when you put teenage boys, a toaster, premium rocket fuel and a school locker together, mayhem is sure to follow."

"Doctor Possible?" The teacher interrupted. "Your sons haven't instigated any damaging or disruptive incidents."

"They haven't?"

"No! In fact, they've been very well behaved."

"Not to insult you, Miss Go, but are we talking about the same boys?"

"Of course we are, they look so much like you that it's frightening!"

"Oh…well...in that case, what can I do for you, Miss Go?" James punctuated his question by gesturing towards a chair.

"I'm teaching my advanced physics students about energy propagation through atmospheric media," she informed the doctor, taking the proffered seat.

"A fascinating topic," James nodded, taking his seat behind his desk. "Why, I remember when I was thirteen, I altered the signal from my mother's garage door opener then tied it onto my ham radio set. I wanted to see how much signal would get through the atmosphere to reach low earth orbit." James shook his head. "I wonder if the astronauts on Skylab ever figured out why their zero-gee toilet kept flushing for no apparent reason."

"Er…Doctor Possible…"

"Ah, never mind me. Anyway, how can I help you, Miss Go."

"I wanted to demonstrate how longer wavelengths seem to penetrate the various atmosphere layers better than shorter wavelengths. To do this, I need access to sensing platforms in orbit. Now, it turns out that the space center has such sensors on several satellites and that these satellites aren't in continuous use."

"That's brilliant, Miss Go," James nodded. "We only use the two Rentler Satellites to track probes leaving Earth orbit. The rest of the time, they see very limited use."

"Exactly. Since the school doesn't have the budget needed to actually pay the Space Center, I was hoping that the Space Center could donate this down time."

"I'll have to run it by the board of directors, but I don't see why not. We're not getting any use from the satellites' down time, so donating this time should make for some excellent PR. How can I contact you with the availability schedule?"

"Here," Miss Go handed him a business card. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"No problem at all, Miss. After all, my boys are still in that school so it only makes sense for me to help make it the best it can be."

"Then I'll leave you to your work," Miss go got to her feet. "By the way, I understand you and your wife are friends with the Stoppables."

"Indeed, our Kimmie-cub is still dating their Ronald. I don't see that coming to an end anytime soon."

"I live just down the street from the Stoppables. They seem to be very nice people."

"Oh yes, we still visit them every week or so. That little Hanna of theirs is a real cutie."

"Indeed she is, I hope to hear more from you soon."

"Likewise, Miss Go." James saw the young woman to the front desk before returning to his office and submitting a formal request, for the unused satellite time, to his superiors.

As soon as he set the necessary wheels in motion to assist the teacher, he turned his efforts back to the gravity window calculations. Soon, the sheer joy he experienced when performing four dimension gravitational calculations took up most of his attention, pushing the meeting with Miss Go to the corners of his memory. By the time he left work, he had dealt with so many other issues that he didn't even think to mention the meeting to his wife or sons.

Miss Go wasn't idle after meeting with the rocket scientist. She still had some time before she had to be at school to teach her next class, so she went to a certain medical research center. There, she asked to visit with an employee, a parolee whom she had volunteered to help reintegrate into society. Of course, the facility's director was happy to provide them with a private meeting space.

"Avers," the teacher greeted the thin man. "I've dropped by to see how you're adjusting. How have you been?"

"I can't complain," Aviarius shrugged his bony shoulders. "The work is terribly repetitive but the pay's pretty good."

"So are you happy to stay here?" Miss Go's expression had suddenly gone from cheerful too inquisitive. "Or are you looking forward to making some changes and spreading your wings?"

"I'm more than ready to make some changes," the former villain assured her. "I'm dreaming of the day that I can show my former colleagues the errors of their ways."

"Well, that time might come very soon," Miss Go told him.

"I thought you said that it would be next fall."

"I've learned that I must be prepared for any eventuality. There are certain aspects of my situation that might require me to move at a moment's notice. I want to have all of my assets…prepared…in case an opportunity presents itself."

"Okay, fair enough," Avers nodded slowly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Your last day working here will be two weeks from now," Miss Go told the man. "Don't bother giving your employer notice and don't bother informing the parole board. Nobody from either organization will recognize you. I'll pick you up after work. I've already made all of the arrangements."

Satisfied that her latest underling was ready to serve, Miss Go returned to Middleton High. She made a mental note to make sure her little facility outside of town was ready.

* * *

"Okay Will, let's do this the way we planned," Bonnie muttered out of the side of her mouth. Will responded by sliding his arm around her waist and letting her lead him onto the dance floor.

They had rehearsed this, of course. Bonnie, being a former cheerleader, was a big believer in the advantages of choreography and rehearsals. She hadn't been shy about letting her partner, of sorts, know about it. For his part, Du had gone along, conceding that she knew more than he did about this crowd they were trying to merge into. Bonnie had taken the lead in the planning, selecting their clothing and coming up with a cover story for Will. Still, as they found a somewhat clear space and started dancing, Will had to admit that the plan was working out fairly well.

The two of them flew to Milan, where they found themselves immersed in the last, frantic preparations for the Club Banana European fashion tour. Much to Will's surprise, Bonnie had devoted every waking hour to either preparing herself for tour or making sure that she and Will presented the right image. The brunette met constantly with the tour's photographers and consultants, making sure that she moved and posed just right. When these professionals were busy, she and Will worked together. They would claim unused meeting rooms, put on some techno-music and practice their dance moves. Bonnie worked on the agent's body language, getting him to relax from his habitual ramrod-stiff posture.

The two of them, with Dr. Director's approval, had decided that Will would pose as her boyfriend and the son of a somewhat prosperous family. This meant that nobody expected him to stay at five-star resorts and drive expensive sports cars. Since Bonnie wasn't a headlining model, his prosperous but not rich background made a good match. By posing as her boyfriend, he could accompany her around the continent, staying with her even though their rooms had two beds. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Du had enjoyed the last couple of weeks. The practice dancing with her had been wonderful and the occasional lounging on the beach (strictly for appearances' sake of course) had been great. The only thing that disturbed Du was that he was having some difficulty maintaining his professional bearing.

Since they were working so closely, Du and Bonnie inevitably talked and Du found himself warming to the teenager. At first, he had felt only disgust for her involvement with the drug, Pump but as time went on he began to see why she had done what she had. Her arrogant, outspoken older sisters only respected achievement in the areas they deemed important. While Bonnie could have been an outstanding ballet dancer, a superb athlete and a capable student, her sisters only respected social standing and the activities that promoted it. Therefore, her sisters' only comments were about the food chain and the fact that Bonnie wasn't the head cheerleader. Her mother's semi-clueless nature only made it worse. The Rockwaller matron honestly thought her older daughters had their younger sister's best interests in mind when they criticized her. Had she been more aware, she would have encouraged Bonnie to apply herself in those fields where she could have excelled.

The real tragedy in the entire situation was that Bonnie could have excelled and met or exceeded her sisters' standards except for one person, Kim Possible. Had Kim Possible not attended Middleton High, Bonnie would have easily been the head cheerleader. If not for Kim Possible, Bonnie would have easily been the most popular student in the school. Instead, the redhead's near superhuman athletic prowess, academic capability and world-saving celebrity set the bar higher than Bonnie could ever hope to meet. Her sisters never failed to remind her of her 'second place' status, never admitting that they wouldn't have been able to meet the bar, either.

Driven to be the best cheerleader, Bonnie had started to take Pump. Driven to cement her social standing with the latest fashions and accessories, she started to sell the drug. When it all came crashing down on her, her sisters had a field day shredding her fragile ego. Still, some of the old drive to excel remained in the brunette. When she wasn't working with the tour's photographers and consultants, she was either working out or polishing the cover story with Will. It was this close proximity to a lovely young woman, whose better nature was trying to claw its way out of the circumstances that had submerged it, that was starting to melt Will's professional bearing.

Last night had been the hardest part. Bonnie had been working very hard, knowing that she was first going to be facing the fashion show then the real reason she was in Europe. Du had picked up some carry out food and brought it to her in their three-star hotel. The worn out brunette had nodded off during the meal. Du, ever the gentleman, carried her to her bed and tucked her in. While it wasn't exactly an impure thought why did he have such an urge to kiss her on the forehead before turning off the lights? Confused, he had paused for a couple of seconds, leaning over his sleeping charge, before forcing himself to crawl into his own bed. He swore she smiled in her sleep.

The agent pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind as he danced with the aspiring model. Through the crowd, he caught sight of Elisabeth Minated and, a moment later, Trudy Dementor. He and Bonnie had rehearsed this to the point they didn't need to speak. They simply started to edge closer to their quarry.

Bonnie was having the time of her life, even though she was so tired that only the very good, strong coffee was keeping her awake. Is this what K felt when she was on one of her missions? When the preparations were finished and it was about time to execute and see if you were ready? The last few weeks had been an exhausting marathon of joyous chaos. Yet, the big kickoff, earlier in the day, had been a stunning success. While the rest of the models were partying, unwinding after the opening show and relaxing before moving on to the next one, she was working on the real reason she was here.

She caught Will's eye and knew that he had spotted their quarry, as well. Without any further communication, the two of them started to edge closer to Minated and Dementor. The adrenaline rush was amazing! It was all coming together! In a few moments, she was going to help put an international spook in close to a couple of international criminals.

It was all so exciting! From Cocoa Banana's call that had absolutely floored her sisters, to Agent Du's visit and explanation, to the intercontinental flight, to the rehearsals and fittings. It had been an absolute whirlwind of activity and new experiences…

_With Will beside her the entire time. _

She gave him an appraising look while they danced. Although he had made it clear that his reason for being with her was to give him a plausible reason to get close to Minated and Dementor, he had been intensely supportive this entire time. When she came back, frustrated and flustered, from the fittings and rehearsals, he had calmly let her vent on him. He was patient when they rehearsed his cover story and made sure she was ready to face each day. He made sure her meals were ready, picked up her laundry and kept her company while she worked out. Essentially, he made sure she was in a position to succeed.

Was this how it had been with K and Ron? Was it just the adrenaline and excitement, or was she really developing feelings for Will? Yesterday had been draining and when she had gotten back to their room, he had taken one look at her and declared it a 'night in'. While she indulged in a relaxing shower, he went out and got some carryout for them. Over dinner, she feigned nodding off.

It wasn't that she was teasing or tempting him; she honestly wanted to know how he would react to her being so vulnerable. Would he simply order her into bed or would he try to take advantage somehow? Her heart nearly melted when he scooped her up and tucked her into her bed. Then, he paused, almost as if he were going to kiss her. Did she want him to? She really didn't know, and she was both relieved and disappointed when he finally stood up and tidied the room before retiring.

Bonnie pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind. "Her and Will", if there was such a thing as "her and Will", could wait until later. For now, she was playing her part, partying with her boyfriend and waiting for her former competitors to notice her. It didn't take long before Trudy stopped, did a double take in her direction, then grabbed Ellie's arm and pointed her way. The two blondes conversed, actually shouting at close range over the thrumming music, before both nodded. The two quasi-villains stopped dancing and strode across the dance floor. Bonnie managed to suppress the self-satisfied smirk that threatened to show on her face.

* * *

Would they never learn? Hendle shook his head as he spotted yet another young man stalking his employer. The burly guard didn't have a problem with Trudy hooking up for a little fling now and then. After all, the young woman took certain precautions and made sure that the young men in question did, as well. Not only that, she had developed a certain piece of technology that was certain to make her a lot of legitimate money some day. All she had to do was give the young man in question a quick prick with a needle and in a matter of minutes, she knew if he had any known STD. No, Hendle didn't worry about what Trudy did with the young men she picked up, he simply hoped she had fun.

However, he was very selective about which young men he allowed to get anywhere near her in the first place. Hendle didn't know how he spotted trouble; he just had a talent for doing so. While he didn't mind the young man who got out on the dance floor and caught Trudy's eye, he wouldn't put up with a young man who set his sights on her the moment he stepped into a club. While he had no doubt that he had turned away some potential matches, he wasn't about to apologize for his caution. She was a criminal, after all and law-enforcement agents or, more likely a rival villain, could try to harm her by striking when she was the most vulnerable. Having spotted yet another, potential predator, he gestured to one of the club's bouncers.

* * *

"Bonnie! Bonnie Rockwaller?"

Bonnie feigned surprise when she spun around and spotted her former competitors.

"Trudy! Elisabeth!" She shrieked. She didn't have to feign joy at seeing them, since they really had been decent people during the competition.

"I go by Ellie," Elizabeth corrected her. "But what brings you back to Europe?"

"Pure luck!" Bonnie gushed back. "Cocoa Banana hired me to model in his European tour."

"You're kidding!" Trudy gasped. "I saw some of the coverage but I didn't recognize you!"

"I'm not one of the headliners," Bonnie admitted with a shrug. "You won't see me on the runway, just one of the background models. Still, it's a start."

"A start?" Ellie giggled. "There's plenty of established models that would love to be in the background during this tour, so congratulations are in order. Are you going to be in the entire tour?"

"That's the plan. I haven't seen much of Europe and I'm really looking forward to it."

"The two of us are continental travelers," Trudy admitted. "So where will you be next?"

"We have another show, two days from now, in Zurich. It's going to be really hectic to get ready, so I have to grab all the fun I can, right now."

"Speaking of fun," Ellie gave Will a pointed look. "Are introductions in order?"

"Oh, how silly of me!" Bonnie tittered. "Let me introduce my boyfriend, Will. Billy, this is Trudy and Ellie. I met them earlier this summer in the Mediterranean."

"It must have been…" Will began, only to be jostled from behind.

* * *

The club bouncer followed Hendle's request and slipped onto the dance floor to 'persuade' the young man in question to leave the club. The young man was rather close to the burly man's client and the bouncer had to admit that he didn't look exactly like he belonged in this type of club. The man reacted violently when the bouncer grabbed his shoulder, causing a bit of a scuffle.

Will spun around, dropping into a fighting stance. He quickly noticed that one of the club's bouncers was tussling with a young man and that the scrum had plowed into him. The agent placed himself between Bonnie and the altercation, nudging the brunette back from the fight. It didn't take long before the bouncer got a firm grip on his opponent and hustled him off the dance floor, where they quickly disappeared in the crowd.

"Rocky!" Will shouted to be heard over the club's music. "Why don't we find a table so you can catch up with your friends?"

"We already have one!" Ellie called back. The two Europeans led the two Americans to an exclusive table, where Hendle loomed like a foreboding watchtower. The stern-faced guardian, however, broke into a smile when he saw Bonnie.

"It would appear that we're having some kind of reunion," he quipped. Here, with a little distance from the dance floor's blaring music, he didn't need to shout. "Although it seems rather more than coincidence that you are here right now."

As soon as Bonnie explained why she was in Milan, the bodyguard relaxed his suspicions. His client enjoyed the company of young women almost as much as she enjoyed flirting with and hooking up with young men. Hendle's job was to keep her safe, not to squash her enjoyment. While the young ladies indulged in a couple rounds of absinthe, he remained dry. He noted that the American girl's boyfriend, Billy, also didn't drink and that Bonnie nursed a single round while Ellie and Trudy had two. The guard shrugged his shoulders, clearly these two Americans weren't the drinking type.

The next couple of hours passed in a blur of dancing and talking until Bonnie nearly nodded off at the table.

"Rocky's had a rough day," Will explained to the two villains. "She hasn't had a decent night's sleep for the last couple weeks and things have been pretty stressful. I think she needs to turn in before I wind up carrying her back to her room."

"It's going to be a long tour," Bonnie added. "And I don't want to start off on the wrong foot. I don't think the director will approve of me falling asleep during a rehearsal or vomiting during a show."

"So that's why you weren't drinking very much," Ellie snickered. "We can catch you later. Both Trudy and I have work to do so we won't be able to see you in Zurich but maybe we can catch up with the tour somewhere else. Do you think you can score us some tickets?"

"I have a couple of tickets to give away for each show," Bonnie answered. "But background models don't get the best seats. Still, I'd love to see you there. Just email me." Bonnie scribbled her address on a couple of napkins.

"We'll be sure to catch at least one of the shows!" Trudy squealed. "Even if it isn't a front row seat, I'd still like to see the fashions."

"If you have only two tickets to give away, where does that leave me?" Will asked, with what was clearly a mock pout.

"Oh, you're catching all of the shows anyway," Bonnie gave his arm a light punch. "Besides, I can always model for you later…_in private_." Bonnie delivered this last line with half-closed eyes and an alluring smile.

Agent Will Du had been through some trying situations as a Global Justice agent but he decided that being on the business end of a Bonnie Rockwaller flirt was the most dangerous.

"How can I say no to an offer like that?" He didn't have to fake the stunned anticipation in his voice.

Bonnie gave her two friends a friendly hug before grabbing Will's arm and dragging him out of the club. Once outside, she snuggled herself under his arm for the cab ride to the hotel and remained there until they reached their room. Was it just Will's imagination, or was Bonnie a little hesitant about slipping back out from under his arm? The agent had to admit that she had fit very well there.

For long moments, the two simply stood there, looking at each other. Will honestly didn't know what he should do next. Finally, Bonnie broke the tension.

"I guess I should say that I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry? What for?"

"I failed," Bonnie murmured looking at her feet. "I was supposed to get you either onto Senior's Island or into Trudy's Lair. I didn't get an invitation from either one before I started to fade out. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." After a moment's hesitation, he slid a finger under her chin and tilted her head so she was looking up again. "This isn't going to be a one-shot accomplishment. It's going to take some time to win their trust. Tonight wasn't a failure, it was a foot in the door."

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

"No Rocky, you really did well."

Bonnie smiled at his pet name for her. "So we'll continue to play our parts?"

"To the hilt," he confirmed.

"Good," Bonnie told him. She took a moment to muster her courage before saying, "I've really enjoyed spending these last couple of weeks with you."

"I've enjoyed them as well," he admitted.

Again, the two seemed lost, neither of them knowing what to do next. Both opened their mouths, as if ready to say something, then stopped. Finally, Will mastered his emotions enough to take a step back.

"It's late," he declared. "And you have an early flight tomorrow, with the rest of the tour. I'll take you to the airport and meet up with you again, in Zurich."

"Right," Bonnie agreed.

Still, as the two packed their bags before getting ready for bed, she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

* * *

"Why did you do it!?"

Warren looked up from his table, where he had been sipping his draft beer to see a fuming Marla Agile.

"Why did I do what?" He asked.

"You know darn well what I mean! Why did you do the hatchet job on my Kim Possible reports?"

"That was over two weeks ago!" He protested.

"And I've finally gotten away from my boss long enough to track you down!" Tears started to run down her face. "I've spent the last two weeks making sure the station's copiers have toner, the coffee pot is always full and that the bathrooms have plenty of toilet paper. I have had absolutely zero camera time and it's _**all your fault**_!"

"Would you like to sit down so that we can discuss this calmly?" Warren asked, gesturing to another chair at his table.

"I don't want to calm down!" She snarled. "I want my career back!"

"You're about to get thrown out of the pub," Warren pointed out. "If you do, you might spend another couple of weeks tracking me down to let me have it again. Take a seat, have a drink, compose yourself and tell me off in a calm manner. You'll get more out of it in the long run."

Marla stood and fumed for a few seconds. She looked around and saw that most of the patrons in this blue-collar establishment were staring at her with expressions that varied from outraged to amused. Taking a deep breath, she followed Warren's suggestion. She was more than a little shocked when he got up to seat her, like a proper gentleman.

"What's your pleasure?" He asked her, lifting his glass to show what he meant.

"I like Manhattans," she answered.

Warren gestured to the server, who quickly showed up. A few minutes later, Marla had her drink in front of her.

"Now, why don't we discuss your issues?" The older reporter suggested.

"Fair enough," Marla kept her voice at a reasonable volume. "After your little 'expose the truth' episode, two weeks ago, the station's manager took me off the air. I've spent the last two weeks doing all the dirty little jobs that are too menial for the interns to do. This morning, the manager told me that they were giving me the boot! What do I do now?"

"What about Rita?" Warren asked, even though he suspected the answer.

"She's a _real_ help," Marla snorted. "One week after your little 'you don't understand Kim Possible' piece, she broadcast a quick little blurb about how she had been a victim of false, local reporting. Since then, she won't answer my calls, letters or emails. She got the gossip she wanted but when things went bad, she threw me to the wolves."

Warren stifled the urge to say 'I told you so'.

"Aren't you going to gloat now?" She asked, her voice miserable. "I know, you tried to warn me and you tried to get me to take the high road and I didn't listen, so you hammered me."

"I didn't hammer you," he replied, in a soft, sorrowful voice.

"What do you mean!? I'm the one out of a job!"

"I exposed the selective reporting you and Rita were doing," Warren pointed out. "Rita set you up to take the fall for her."

"That _really_ helps me right now!"

"Didn't the station offer you an alternative?"

"_Sure_! They gave me the opportunity to go off to some spot on the map town and be a local reporter there. Like I really want to spend the next ten years covering 4H competitions and the local town's three-float homecoming parade!" Marla stopped and sobbed for a few minutes. Finally, she managed to ask. "Why didn't you go after Rita?"

"I went after the team! Rita had already set herself up so that she wouldn't take the fall if it went down."

"You sure didn't waste any words explaining this on your broadcast!"

"I didn't have proof! Sure, I _knew_ she would feed you to the wolves if the truth ever came out but I couldn't report it as a substantial, verifiable fact."

"You could have warned me!"

"I tried!"

"You have some nerve! You're sitting here acting all noble but you still have a job! What the heck am I supposed to do now?"

"You said yourself that the station offered to a more rural station. You're still in broadcasting if you want to be."

"How am I supposed to make a mark when I'm covering the local fishing derby? My career is over!"

"It doesn't have to be! If you work at it, you can get yourself back to where you are right now."

"Don't give me that line! You're just as bad as Rita! She might have tossed me to the wolves but you were one of the wolves that scared her into doing it! Nobody can come back from this!"

Marla seized her drink and was ready to toss it in his face when three quiet words stopped her cold.

"I came back," he said, looking her straight in the eye.

The admission stunned her, so he took the opportunity to explain.

"Back in the late eighties, there was this up and coming reporter who had just made the national scene. He was new, so he had a piece on one of the after prime time broadcasts. Anyway, this hotshot had his sights set on the national, prime time news so he gathered a small group of cronies that weren't afraid to step on toes and break a few ethics standards to get on top. One of those cronies was a new cameraman named Warren."

Marla took a sip from her glass, rather than emptying it on her companion, so Warren continued.

"Back then, the big three automakers were still going strong and it was an 'in vogue' sort of thing to report on how evil the big corporations happened to be. This up and coming reporter decided to expose that one of these automaker's small pickups had a really lousy side-impact safety rating. The only problem was, the manufacturer's own footage wasn't dramatic enough, so we made our own."

"Somehow, this reporter talked the network into buying a new pickup, right off of a dealer's floor so that we could use it for our own demonstration. Like I said, he wanted drama and this new cameraman had a great idea: stash a thin, plastic bag full of gasoline inside the driver's-side door. The reporter thought it was a great idea so the cameraman and the other cronies did it before the team took the vehicle to a private testing facility. They ran the test and while the fireball wasn't very big, by Hollywood standards, it was a real eye-opener."

"The network ran the footage during his little piece on the late-night news show," Warren continued, after taking another draw from his beer. "The only problem was, that manufacturer didn't simply roll over and beg for forgiveness. They knew that the results had to have been staged so they went out and re-created them. The problem with engineers is that they're pretty good at coming up with correct answers to questions. The question the automaker posed was 'how can a fuel fire erupt nowhere near the fuel tank or the fuel lines'? The engineer's gave a simple answer; someone put the fuel there."

"It didn't even take that automaker a week to figure out what we had done. Then they went to the private test facility we had used. The people there admitted that they didn't have control of the vehicle from production until delivery, they had simply tested the vehicle we had provided. This was enough to start the lawsuits rolling and that put a whole lot of pressure on the up and coming reporter and his cronies. Eventually, one of the cronies cracked and sang."

"It wasn't me," Warren told Marla. "So I wasn't able to cut a deal. Even though the network had shown the footage on a late-night program, it was still a network product. The network had been caught broadcasting a lie and you know what they say about waste products rolling downhill."

Marla nodded.

"Well, I was the valley under the cliff, so I was one of the final resting places for all of that waste product. I was lucky I didn't go to prison. Instead, I went into my boss's office and begged, pled and groveled for any position. He was a smart bastard, I'll give him that. He realized that if he fired me, I might just turn around and start blabbing about how lax the network was about making sure its stories were truthful. Instead, he banished me to a roving position in the Dakotas."

"For how long?" Marla asked.

"It took me five years before I got off of the roving assignment and actually found a home at a station in Sioux Falls. It took me another six to move up to Omaha. After five years in Omaha, I found myself in Middleton."

"I don't think I can do that," Marla admitted.

"If you go in with a negative attitude, you won't be able to do it," Warren told her. "I had a really crappy attitude when I arrived in Bismarck for my first assignment but somehow, I came out of the whole thing a better reporter than I was when I started. By the time I got the promotion that put me in Middleton, I had a real appreciation for the type of people who work their butts off, day in and day out, and never try to become famous. I learned to support those honest city, county and state officials who do their level best to do their jobs. I learned to be protective of the individuals who take it on themselves to make their world a better place, even if they're just trying to straighten out their own little corner of it. Finally, I learned to have no mercy on the people who try to make a name by tearing down the honest, hard-working types."

"So you went after those of us who were defaming Kim Possible?"

"It's Team Possible and yes, I was doing my part by keeping the rabid dogs away from them. Don't get me wrong, if your innuendoes had proven true, I would have gone after them with the journalistic equivalent of a drawn sword. That's why I put together the live broadcast; to get the complete truth with minimal journalistic bias."

"Now," Warren concluded. "If you want to be a reporter, you take that small town assignment. You take that assignment and you do your level best. If you're good, you'll get the promotions and you'll work your way up the ladder a whole lot smarter than you were before."

"In other words, it's time to do my penance?"

"You can call it penance if you want, I prefer another term."

"What's that?"

"Opportunity."

* * *

"Faye, we need to talk."

Kim almost cringed herself, when the younger cheerleader flinched. Faye really was shy, almost afraid of her own shadow. Kim was glad that she had learned from her blowup at Ron, shortly after they had caught Bonnie dealing Pump. Kim wasn't perfect and one of her flaws was her fiery temper. While she was usually calm and levelheaded, certain things could tweak her and she had learned the hard way, to account for this. As such, she had given herself a full day, after learning about the younger girl's interest in Ron, before talking to her. This waiting period had given Kim some time to think things through and realize a few things about herself, as well.

"O-okay," the girl stammered back. "W-what's up?"

"If we could speak a little more privately?" Kim prompted, with a gesture towards the student union's lounge area.

The redhead had chosen the location for this discussion (she refused to consider it a confrontation) carefully. The student union building provided semi-privacy; nobody would overhear unless they started shouting at each other. Kim intended this to put the other girl at ease. While this wasn't the sort of conversation for a public setting, complete isolation could intimidate Faye. Kim didn't want to frighten Faye any more than she already had; she wanted to gently set the bounds and remain friends.

Faye took the hint and followed the heroine to a couple of comfortable chairs. Kim had selected this location, as well. The two chairs were fairly isolated from the rest of the room and the low table between them gave some separation between the girls; again, to put Faye at ease. After looking around, making sure that no one was nearby; Kim was ready to begin.

"Would you like a soda?" Kim asked. "A bottled water, anything?"

"N-n-no thank you," Faye stammered.

"OK," Kim nodded. "Faye, before I really get started I want you to know that I'm not going to bite your head off. The fact that you're really nervous right now tells me that you know what's up, but I'm not mad at you."

"S-s-so you know that I…I…"

"I know that you...like…Ron," Kim finished for her, in a perfectly calm voice. "I know that you've been looking at him and that you've been taking advantage of every opportunity to get close to him."

"Kim, I know he's your boyfriend but…"

"He's seems like a really nice guy and you think he's kind of cute," Kim finished for her, once again.

"Well…yeah." Faye looked down, not meeting Kim's eyes.

"Faye, relax. I'm not angry," Kim reminded her. "I know that there's been some…less than reputable media types…that have reported that I'm really not that into Ron and that it's only a matter of time before I drop him. I know that there has been some speculation on this campus that it's only a matter of time before I trade up. I take it you've sort of believed that."

"Kind of," Faye admitted. "Look, I'm not trying to be some kind of…vulture…waiting for you and him to come to an end it's just…"

"Ron's a nice guy," Kim finished for her, yet again. "If the two of us ever broke up, why can't it be your turn?"

"Yeah," Faye confessed, looking away for a second.

"Faye, I'm not trying to be mean or defensive but I'm going to tell you something that the media just isn't interested in reporting. It took the two of us a long time, with a couple of close calls, before we really got together. My high school rival, when she saw that we were about to get together, went out of her way to keep us apart and although this is going to sound bad, I'm very grateful that she did."

Faye gasped at Kim.

"Because I wasn't at the point where I wanted Ron for Ron," Kim explained. "I can admit it to myself, now, that I was lonely for a boyfriend. I saw so many of my friends and classmates with boyfriends that I had to ask myself; 'if so many other girls can keep a steady boyfriend, why can't I? What's wrong with me?' At the time, I had only had one real boyfriend but that didn't work out for very long."

"Was he a jerk?" Faye asked.

"No, no, he was, and is, a really nice guy. We just never really clicked with each other. Anyway, here I was on a long trip back from a mission, remembering how my friends talked about the fun times they had with their boyfriends, when I looked at Ron."

"That's when you saw him as a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, but not for the right reasons," Kim answered. At Faye's confused look, she continued. "I was thinking about all the things I could tell my friends, if I started to date him. Other girls might talk about going to concerts, or skiing, or romantic dinners, the typical teenaged dating things. Me, I would be able to talk about skydiving, freak fighting, rescuing people, scuba diving and that sort of thing. How many girls could claim a boyfriend that would do things like that with them?"

"None that I know of," Faye whispered back.

"Then Bon…er…my rival, I won't say names, gave me this big 'he's a nice guy but he isn't a hot, media friendly guy' speech." Kim dropped her gaze to the table before continuing. "And I bought it. I stopped flirting with him and then Drakken pulled his synthodrone stunt. This hot, confident, smooth and charming new guy showed up and I fell for him, big time."

Faye nodded. The celebrity press had gotten a great deal of mileage out of the 'diabolical Dr. Drakken cruelly playing Kim Possible's emotions' angle.

"That's why I owe my rival, big time," Kim continued. "I still didn't want Ron for Ron. I still wanted to impress my friends and rivals with my boyfriend, not satisfy myself. Because of this there was a chance that if I had gotten together with Ron before Drakken pulled his stunt I...I might have tried to set Ron aside when the hottie showed up. If I had done that, it would have ruined our friendship and any chance of getting together with him."

"I won't tell you about what I went through during the next few weeks, since some of it's private." Kim continued, after a moment to gather her thoughts. "But I will say that I did some real soul-searching and I finally figured out that I wanted Ron with me and it wasn't to impress anyone. Now, back to you."

Faye flinched again.

"Faye, I'm not going to rip into you!" Kim repeated while reaching across the table to touch the top of the girl's hands. "You aren't doing anything wrong, you're just crushing on a guy who happens to be taken. I just wanted to tell you that I'm not going to drop him for some piece of eye-candy. We've spent too much time together, both as friends and as boyfriend/girlfriend, for me to do that."

Kim giggled a little, "I'd be tempted to invite you to take your best shot but that just wouldn't be right. Instead, I'm going to ask you, as your friend, don't hold out for Ron... He just isn't going to become available."

"Okay, I understand," Faye said. "Are…are we friends again?"

"Again? As far as I'm concerned, we always were."

"Good," Faye nodded. "How long do you think it'll take me to find a nice guy?"

"There are plenty of good guys around here," Kim answered. "Have you thought about the fullback, Jeremy? He seems like a really nice guy."

"Eeeew," Faye screwed up her face in a disgusted expression. "That would be gross!'

"Why?" Kim was honestly puzzled. "I mean, don't you think he's a nice guy?"

"Sure."

"He's kind of cute," Kim added, with a sly smile.

"You could say that," Faye agreed looking away again.

"Is it the age difference?" Kim asked. "You're a young freshman and he's a senior."

"No, it's not the age," Faye said.

"Then what?"

"The fact that he's my cousin is a major turn off."

"Woa, ah." Kim blushed a little. "Okay, how about…"

The two girls spent the next several minutes discussing the availability and desirability of the males to be found at Upperton U. While they didn't select one for Faye, they did manage to push the awkwardness behind them.

* * *

_A/N:_

_I'd like to thank everyone who has continued to read this, my latest humble offering. As always, I must thank my ever-patient Beta, Joe Stoppinghem, for his continued efforts, even at the expense of his own writing. _

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Trudy Dementor rubbed her temples and reminded herself once again, to never schedule a progress meeting on the Monday after 'party weekend.' After meeting Bonnie Rockwaller, she and Ellie had celebrated by pouring an incredible amount of Absinthe and Ouzo down their throats. Trudy didn't have any coherent memories of leaving the club or getting home. She assumed that Hendle had done his usual, competent job and looked after her after she had drunk herself incapable of looking after herself.

However, even Hendle couldn't do anything about the massive hangover she was sporting at this moment, beyond offering her some coffee and aspirin. In a way, Hendle was still doing his job; he was making sure that she was suffering just enough to learn her lesson but not enough to retard her effectiveness.

"Okay everyone," she addressed the half-dozen individuals gathered in her office. "Where do we stand?"

"Your latest enhancements have increased your communicators' range by sixty percent," one of her lieutenants reported. "We have just finished the first production run and the response has been heartening. We hope to filter some through a front company and sell them on the standard market."

"Profits?" Trudy prompted, flinching at her own voice. It wasn't only louder than she remembered; the rasping quality was almost nauseating.

"The same percentage," the man reported. "But you have to admit that it's a plus."

Trudy's tired mind was forced to agree. Her production costs had increased by fifteen percent. Since her profit margin remained the same, on a percentage basis, that meant fifteen percent more profit per unit sold. The chance of selling her communicators via legitimate markets promised even greater income.

"How about the personal shields?" He asked, this time in a whisper.

"The side effects remain the same," another man informed her. "Although you've added twelve percent to the duration. If you don't mind me saying, making them a one-shot item was pure genius."

Trudy smiled through her pain. Ellie had been the one to suggest she make her shield projectors one-shot items. Sure, they were expensive but they only snapped into an active mode to protect against an attack. Already, several crime bosses owed their lives to a shield suddenly popping up between them and bullets, grenade fragments and other, unpleasant things. These same crime bosses and supervillains didn't hesitate to purchase additional units.

"As per your suggestion, we're not planning on trying to sell these items on the open market," this second advisor continued. "Government testing will reveal the side effects, which will probably adversely affect marketability." A low round of chuckles greeted this pronouncement.

"How are we doing on our production line capacity?" Trudy asked. Several scowls answered her.

"We're falling behind," her factory supervisory informed her. "We're working three shifts and we've trained our workers to be very efficient but we're barely keeping up with demand. If we experience continued, increased demand from your established products or we implement your additional ideas, we're going to need increased production capability."

"So my trans-dimensional stealth coating and magnetic field manipulator?" Trudy prompted.

"Are dependent upon your production capacity," the manager told her. "You simply don't have any more capacity at this time."

"This puts us at risk," Trudy grumbled. "The way I see it, we can either move to another lair, with the disruptions and risks involved, or we can establish a second lair."

"Two lairs means double the chance of the authorities discovering us," Hendle reminded her.

"And twice the bribes and security expenses," another voice chimed in.

"I know, I know," Trudy grumbled back with her hangover really coming back full force. "Is there any way we can increase our productivity here? Call up the usage charts again."

The lights dimmed, to Trudy's immense relief, and the computer system projected a chart on a blank wall.

"As you can see," Trudy's factory supervisor pointed at a couple of the figures with a laser pointer. "The majority of the factory's run time is devoted to the communications devices and the protective field generators."

"That's only seventy percent, combined," another voice chimed in. "What about the other thirty percent?"

"Ten percent is devoted to maintenance and routine servicing."

"Okay, what about the final twenty percent?"

"Retooling the line between production runs," the supervisor informed the audience. "Our two showcase items require different assembly techniques, so resetting the production line takes time."

"Could we increase our production runs and cut the number of retoolings?" A financial advisor asked.

"Potentially yes," Trudy informed him. "But that would take away our main selling point. This technology is very new and thus constantly changing. By keeping our production runs short, we're constantly improving the product."

"I still think that the retooling time is the key," the financial advisor informed her.

"There may be a solution here," she admitted. "I experimented with using projected force fields instead of actual dies, cutters, molds and other equipment. We can reconfigure these force fields in minutes, rather than the hours it takes us to retool the production line."

"The beta run was very promising," the factory supervisor agreed. "But that wasn't a full scale production attempt."

"And the energy requirements for that experiment left the rest of the lair without power," Trudy's lair manager reminded everyone. "If we were to replace all of our major fabricating machines with force fields, the local power grid wouldn't be able to supply our energy requirements."

"We could request additional capacity from the utility company," the factory supervisor suggested.

"Which would risk the national authorities wondering why a small, 'private research laboratory' needs so much additional power." The lair manager reminded everyone. "We have to work within our cover story."

"We could generate the power ourselves," another lieutenant suggested.

"We would need something on the line of a nuclear reactor to deliver the power we need," the lair manager informed him. "And after Dr. Drakken's Diablo scheme, the world's governments have started to track nuclear materials much more seriously."

"I'm beginning to see why my father was so infatuated with Camille Senior," Trudy chimed in. "She had the potential to power this facility, many times over, without alerting the authorities that we were up to something."

"We could still get her," another lieutenant informed her. "She won't stay on Senior's Island forever."

"No… ow." Trudy shook her head, even though it made her vision blur. "Ellie's my friend now and if I take advantage of her and seize Camille, things could go very bad for her. If only we had another…" Trudy's voice faded into silence as she grasped at an idea with her dehydrated brain.

"Okay, the boss is coming up with an idea," Hendle snorted, recognizing the vague look on his employer's face."

"I've got it! Ow!" Trudy exclaimed, then immediately regretted it. Holding her aching head, she continued in a much more subdued voice, "if you can't get what you want from the shopkeeper, talk to the factory."

"That one went over my head," Hendle admitted. The rest of the assembled underlings nodded their agreement while Trudy started to type furiously at a computer terminal.

"Camille wasn't born with her shape shifting ability," Trudy explained, her excitement at finding a technical, and villainous, solution overriding her hangover. "She gained it after visiting a plastic surgeon named Dr. Bofox."

"Didn't he have a rather controversial reputation?" One of the assembled staff asked.

"In some circles," Trudy chuckled. "OK, the polite circles. The rest of his critics called him a quack. Anyway, if he gave Camille this shape shifting capability, he can give someone else the same ability."

"Who?" Several people asked at once.

"Haven't gotten that far," Trudy admitted. "Still, my father's research showed that she was most likely moving mass to and from an alternate reality."

"How does that solve our energy problem?" The lair manager asked. "I overheard some of your father's rantings…"

"Discussions," Trudy insisted.

"Okay, discussions. He was saying that she wasn't producing or consuming energy."

"Ah," Trudy snickered. "My dear papa was only interested in one aspect of inter-reality access and that was moving matter from one reality to another."

"I'm still not understanding your reasoning," the manager admitted.

"My father didn't care about how matter got from one reality to another; he was only interested in moving it from one reality to another. He was sort of like a man shipping a package overseas; he didn't care if it went first by truck, then by rail, then by ship, then by truck again; only that it reached its destination."

"I'm still in the dark," the assembled crew agreed with the manager.

"It is child's play…for multi-dimensional physics! Matter does not follow the same rules in all realities; therefore it cannot cross the barrier between realities while still matter. At the moment it crosses the barrier, it converts to energy and reassembles, under the other reality's rules, on the other side! I proved this when I was fourteen years old. Papa had assembled a small-scale vortex between realities. I pushed a working, biological system through the vortex and recovered it. There were some significant changes when it returned."

"I remember that incident," Hendle remarked, before shaking his head in sorrow. "Poor Admiral Whiskers."

"Okay, matter changes to energy," the manager said. "So why didn't your father detect it during his experiments?"

"He wasn't looking for the right manifestation," Trudy told him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This barrier energy doesn't display the standard attributes, like light or heat."

"I'm still not understanding that."

"Okay, imagine that you're a blacksmith, back in the eighteenth century. When you think about energy, you understand heat, light, kinetic energy and potential energy. You don't understand radio waves and electric fields. You can experience them every day but you don't know they exist because you don't know how to look for them."

"But your father's a brilliant physicist!"

"Of course he is…in the fields he's interested in pursuing. He isn't very interested in the forms of energy to be found at reality's border, so he didn't look for it. I am, so I look for it and find it."

"Wait a minute!" The manager interrupted. "If you knew this, why didn't you tell your father while he was performing his experiments on Camille?"

"What? And stop all of the irritation and humiliation he was heaping upon her?" Trudy flashed a truly evil smile. "Anyway, if we can convince Dr. Bofox to give another subject shapeshifting abilities, I can recover a great deal of energy at the cost of some mass. I did so when I pushed my cat through the dimensional vortex. That's why he had…considerably less mass…after I recovered him than when he first went through."

"Uh, Trudy," Hendle interrupted. "We've never done cold-blooded murder. If you do to a person what you did to that cat…"

"I've learned how to control the reaction and limit the power expenditure…theoretically. Relax, when mass is converted to energy, small amounts of mass produce enormous amounts of energy. Even if we only recover a fraction of the energy generated, a mere thimble full of matter, each day, from our test subject will meet our energy needs."

"Just what part of the subject's body gives up this thimble full of matter?" Hendle asked. "There are certain parts of my body that I wouldn't want to give up even that little bit of matter."

"Hendle…" Trudy chided, starting to blush.

"I mean my heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, brain…you get the idea," Hendle coldly informed his employer. "I think I could give up a thimble full of blood a day with no ill effects, but if the matter comes out of someone's innards, we're dealing with murder."

"That's something I'll have to work on," Trudy admitted. "No matter! We will struggle on with our existing production capacity for now. We will acquire Dr. Bofox's services and create another changeling. After this, I will conduct experiments until I can control the source of the mass that we convert to energy. After that, we will harness our changeling as an energy source, increase our production capacity several times over and use the income to fund my worldwide extortion plans."

"This experimenting with the subject," the lair manager interrupted Trudy's ranting. "Will it be harmful or painful?"

"It won't hurt me one bit," Trudy answered, with a truly evil smile.

"So who gets the _**honor**_ of being the power source?" He asked.

"Why, someone we don't like very much, of course."

* * *

"So how does this work again?" Avers, known to most of the world as Avaiarius, scowled suspiciously at the large vat his benefactor wanted to lower him into.

"I have already spliced the gene sequence for the body you want," Miss Go told her new servant. "I have already inserted this DNA into several tissue samples you provided."

Avaiarius grimaced. The 'providing' had proven rather painful.

"I will also alter your brain's chemistry. Your body is designed to repair itself but not to re-grow lost limbs or to rebuild itself. After I'm done, I will immerse you into this tank. Between the biological compounds in the tank, the alterations to your own brain and the DNA I inject into you, your body will reform itself into what we want."

"Just how painful is this going to be?"

"I've gone through the process twice," she informed him. "You'll be sedated and unaware during the change, so there is no pain. Afterwards, the side effects can be irritating."

"Side effects! I think you're going to explain this before I get in that tank."

"Simply the side effects of operating in a different body," she assured him.

"When I made my first change, I more than doubled my height. I kept hitting my head on ceilings, doorframes, pretty much anything overhead. The first few times I sat down, the chairs collapsed under my increased bulk. After my change into this body, I kept stumbling over stairs because I didn't realize I had to lift my feet up much farther, relative to my new body. If you think you're just going to come out of the tank and fly, effortlessly, you're mistaken. You're going to plant your beak into the ground a lot of times before you finally figure out how to fly. You're going to have to learn to handle the new you."

"Okay, I can deal with that. How long will it take?"

"A few weeks. Don't worry, it will seem like a few moments."

"It will be worth it," Avaiarius told his new master. "I have an interesting piece of trivia for you. Do you know what a arboreal monkey's most dangerous predator happens to be?"

"No."

"A bird of prey."

* * *

"Okay, Hank, what do you have?"

"Well, Mr. Lipsky, I have the latest reports from the telephone company."

"That was a stroke of genius," Drew admitted, congratulating himself for his foresightedness. "By bribing some of the phone company's employees, I've managed to find out who Global Justice is calling, and when." Drew looked over the report before feeding it into his scanner.

"I'm a little confused about this," Hank admitted.

"Shoot," Drew ordered his employee.

"First of all, Mr. Lipsky, aren't we supposed to be working for Global Justice? If that's the case, why are we spying on them?"

"It's part of my job, Hank. Dr. Director expects me to spy upon her organization."

"Isn't that a little odd?"

"Not if you look a little more closely," Drew told his assistant. Hank Perkins realized that he was about to receive the benefit of his employer's wisdom. The overly perky young man settled in, reflecting on the saying that every engineer has a teacher inside, waiting to come out.

"Dr. Director has a very long-term approach to her organization," Drew began. "And that includes her subsidiary organizations, like HenchCo. She realizes that HenchCo has to thrive in order for it to provide her with benefits so she wants me to maintain our villain cred. One of the ways I do this is by spying on Global Justice itself. Very few criminals will believe that I'm actually working for Global Justice when I'm spying on Global Justice."

"Doesn't that put Global Justice in danger?"

"To an extent that Dr. Director is prepared to accept. We have an agreement; I'm free to use the information I dig up but I have to tell her within thirty days of finding it. She forbids me from telling her how I came up with the dirt, since she says that she has to be able to track down her own leaks."

"Okay, that makes sense, in a bizarre kind of way. How does this information do your customers any good? I mean, we don't know what anyone actually said during the conversations. The fact that Global Justice's phones placed sixty-five calls to Bueno Nacho last month isn't a very big secret."

"There's no such thing as a small secret," Drew corrected his assistant. "There are only small applications. Now, I can cross reference these calls with actions that these calls' recipients take to find useful patterns."

"That's why you've fed the records into your computer?"

"Exactly! Sometimes you have to really dig to find something useful and even a computer can take time to find patterns. The Bueno Nacho item, on the other hand, is too easy."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Just this, Hank," Lipsky printed out some figures and showed them to his assistant. "Notice that Global Justice placed two, long calls, every Tuesday and Thursday, to Bueno Nacho, just before noon. This has been going on for three months now and Bueno Nacho started ordering more supplies from corporate about the time that these calls started. I'm willing to bet that a couple of GJ's departments have lunch meetings and they're ordering lunch from BN twice a week. In addition, GJ started to make more calls to BN shortly after the fast food franchise expanded its hours to overnight."

"Interesting but not very useful," Hank replied.

"Au contraire, " Lipsky chided him. "Imagine if you were planning a strike against GJ. Knowing that a couple of people would be picking up a large order from BN twice a week could be useful information. You could, hypothetically of course, introduce drugs, poisons or even a bold saboteur."

"Dr. Director lets you sell this information?" Hank was incredulous.

"She insists upon it…ah, what have we here?"

Drew Lipsky's computer chirped and printed out a single page of paper.

"What is it, sir?"

"Initial findings," Drew replied. "It's a listing of calls to destinations that GJ doesn't regularly call. Hmmm, it seems that GJ phones called a major bowling pin manufacturer several times last month. I'll have to see what that company did either shortly before or after these calls. There's also a call to the Club Banana corporate office. GJ hasn't called that bunch, pardon the pun, for months. I'll have to see if I can construct a pattern."

"Sir, do you really think it's worth the effort? I mean, Club Banana specializes in teenagers' fashions."

"You'd be surprised," Drew told him. "Innocent calls like this can, potentially, have enormous consequences."

Drew Lipsky made sure that his computer was properly set to print out actions the various companies took shortly after Global Justice called them. Satisfied that he would have some summaries to read the next day, he retired to his lab to see just how good Trudy Dementor's latest communication devices really were.

* * *

"So you want permission to go where and do what?" Nate, after visiting Edward Lipsky again, was confused about Ed's latest hobby.

"Robot Rumble dude, seriously!" The big man told him.

"What's that?"

"It's a seriously gnarly contest bro," Ed explained. "You build up the most serious butt-kicking robot that you possibly can and you fight it against other dude's robots. I'm working on one right now."

Ed led Nate to a corner of his shop, where he uncovered his latest project.

"What do you think, dude?"

"I really don't know much about these things," the public official admitted.

This was true enough. Nate had come to realize that he would probably never really understand Ed Lipsky very well, but he had to admit that he actually liked the man. Unlike most of the parolees he was forced to monitor, Ed showed no interest in either returning to a life of crime or simply becoming a burden on the taxpayer. The man was energetic and motivated, even if his motivations were alien to most other people.

When Nate first started to monitor the big mechanic, he thought that he could understand the man. He quickly discovered that Ed liked heavy metal music (the louder the better), building things, trashing things and repairing the things that he trashed so he could trash them again. The man also had an incredible drive to build things larger and flashier, if not necessarily better and more practical. This had led Nate to believe that Lipsky was sort of an overgrown adolescent but he had been wrong.

In the weeks that followed, Nate learned that the big man had a moral compass, of sorts, that didn't always point the same way everyone else's did. There were similarities; for one thing, the man took an almost obsessive pride in his work. When Ed repaired something, it was better than new. This compulsion went beyond his paycheck. Ed honestly demanded outstanding performance from himself. After that, Ed's motivations tended to be harder to follow. For one thing, he couldn't understand why his loud tunes irritated the neighbors. Believing the music was good or, in his own words, seriously awriiiiiiight, he felt he was being friendly by letting everyone within three blocks hear him play it at any time of the day or night. Once a couple of policemen informed him that jail time would happen if he kept cranking his jams throughout the neighborhood, he soundproofed his garage. Ed didn't understand personal space, at least in other people but as long as he realized that 'the man' could put him back in the slammer unless he played ball, it was good enough for Nate.

Another thing was Ed's strange relationship with vehicles. While Ed had no problem earning some extra pay by working on several cars simultaneously, he steadfastly refused to own more than one of any type of vehicle at any one time. A case in point was the big man's motorcycle. He had custom built the machine while still in a supervised living facility. Last week, a classic Harley had come up for sale and Ed refused to buy it, despite the fact he was interested, because he already owned a bike. According to Ed, owning more than one bike was somehow cheating; breaking the moral bonds between owner and machine. Yet, somehow, the man didn't see any problem with owning a bike, a car and a snowblower, which was really a modified motorcycle, at once.

"If ya already got one, ya can't get another one," Ed had declared. "It's just not the way things work."

Ed Lipsky looked at vehicle collectors in much the same way that the rest of society looked at polygamists.

Finally, there were the man's eccentricities when it came to how he viewed vehicles. The man seemed to view internal combustion engines the way most people viewed holy icons and handled repair manuals in a way usually reserved for the Koran or the Bible. Nate had personally seen his own priest handle his communion set with less reverence than Ed handled his tools. Somehow, Ed seemed to think that the process of converting fuel to kinetic energy, and everything associated with it, was something akin to achieving a state of grace.

Still, for all his oddities, Ed was actually a likable sort of person. He always offered Nate a brew, which the inspector always refused, being on the clock. Nate also realized that Ed really didn't have a vendetta against anyone. The only reason he had tried to kill Kim Possible was because he was convinced that it would help keep his cousin away from the electric chair. While that didn't excuse his actions, it showed Nate that Ed hadn't done it for personal gain. Somehow, that made Nate feel a little better about the big man.

"I actually expected something bigger," Nate admitted, looking at Ed's fighting robot. The vehicle in question was a low, circular vehicle about two feet across.

"They have weight classes," Ed informed him. "So I had to do a serious job scaling it down."

"Is that a wig with a mullet on top of it?"

"Seriously bro! That's how I keep track of which end's the front when I'm rolling it."

"What does it do?"

"Check it out! And stand back!"

Ed produced a remote control and hit a start switch. Nate heard a small motor inside the robot roar to life. With Ed at the control, the robot rolled across the garage to a piece of sheet metal along one wall. A metal piston suddenly burst from an opening on the robot's front, punching a hole in the sheet metal.

"It's an auto piston and cylinder," Ed explained, killing the robot's engine. "It took me some serious time to cut that baby out of the block, but the engine was trashed anyway. I've put some more surprises in this little dude," here, Ed gave the robot a fond pat. "But that was its main kick, seriously."

"Wait a minute," Nate consulted his PDA. "Didn't you use a similar weapon when you tried to kill Possible?"

"Uh, yeah," Ed's enthusiasm dried up. "Look, I'm sure you've caught the whole story. I really don't have anything against Red but it was for my cuz. I know that if I had to check out, that's the way I would have wanted to go."

The funny thing was that Nate knew Ed was telling the truth.

"Isn't this a violent activity?" Nate asked the man.

"Seriously!" Ed agreed. "But it's robot on robot. No animals or humans harmed, y'know?"

"When and where do these contests take place?"

"Every Saturday afternoon, at the civic center," Ed told him. "At least, that's where the Canon City chapter holds the contests. If I win the qualifying rounds, I'll be asking permission to head to Middleton for the state competition. If I win there, I'll be wanting to go to Go City for the nationals."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Nate cautioned him. While Nate didn't have the authority to give Ed permission to enter these events, his recommendation carried a great deal of weight. Nate considered it for a few minutes before coming to a very simple conclusion: Ed Lipsky never got into trouble when spending time in his garage.

"I'll recommend that you receive permission to enter the Canon City events," he told the big man. "As for the state and national competitions, we'll have to play it by ear."

"Sweeeeeeet!!!!" as Ed jumped in the middle of the garage.

"AHHHH- YEAAAA!!!!!!!" As he ended his solo.

Nate shook his head at the spectacle of Ed playing his air guitar once again.

* * *

"Time to wash up for dinner boys," Dr. James Possible called out, stepping cautiously into his garage. Painful experience had taught the rocket scientist to neither startle his sons nor walk into an area where they were working without checking the territory first.

"Awwwww, dad!" One whined.

"Do we have to?" The other asked.

"We were just getting started on the launcher," they finished, in unison.

"What's this?" The elder Possible asked. "I thought you were simply using a spinning body to do the damage." Dr. James Timothy Possible found himself intrigued with his boys' work. Ever since their cousin Larry had introduced them to Robot Rumble, they had been determined to build the ultimate fighting robot.

"We're still using it," Tim told him.

"But we realized that this required our robot to actually contact the other one," Jim added.

"We want to try to disable the other robot at a distance," they concluded.

"So what are you going to be launching?"

"A dual net!" Both boys exclaimed.

"Two interwoven but electrically separate nets," Tim informed his father.

"Both with exposed, penetrating barbs," Jim added. "We launch the net over the other robot…"

"The other robot's own locomotion will draw the net tighter," Tim continued. "This will inhibit both its locomotion and steering systems as well as force the penetrating barbs through its body and into its electronics."

"That's when we charge the separate electric paths," Jim concluded. "And wham!"

"We fry its electronics systems!" They finished.

"That sounds like fun, boys," James admitted. "How are you planning on launching the net?"

"We're using a carbon dioxide cylinder," Jim answered.

"Plenty of power for a light net," Tim added. "The gas isn't flammable, so it won't be as much fun but at least we won't be banned from the rumble."

"Yeah, if we start a fire, Larry might get expelled, as well," Jim added.

"How about targeting?" James asked. "Since the net won't be guided, you'll have to be able to aim accurately."

"Ultrasonic sonar," Jim added. "When the enemy robot's in range, it will light an indicator on our robot…"

"So we'll know when we can fire the net," Tim added. "Of course, we'll have to adjust the angle of launch based on the other robot's height."

"You'll also need very good timing," James told them. "Why don't you just use a computer-monitored servo to adjust your launch barrel's elevation and another one for the azimuth?"

"We didn't have time to order them," Tim admitted. "And our first match is this weekend."

"I don't suppose you have a couple laying around the garage?" Jim offered, hopefully.

"I don't know of any well-stocked tool shed that doesn't have a couple," James assured his boys. The rocket scientist went to one of his cabinets and pulled out a couple of the devices. "We might have some work to calibrate their feedback with your on-board computer, but it shouldn't take very long."

"Yay!" Both twins cheered. Moments later, James and his sons were hard at work installing the new weaponry on the twins' fighting robot. All three were enjoying themselves so much that they lost track of the time, and the fact that Anne had sent James to fetch the boys for dinner. By the time the Possible matriarch got fed up enough to go out to the garage, herself, the three Possible males were testing the automatic targeting system they had installed in the robot.

Anne Possible was both fortunate and unfortunate with the following chain of events. She was unfortunate in that her sons and husband had decided to point the robot at the garage door and set it to launch at any movement. Anne Possible was already annoyed when she stormed into the garage, demanding to know why her sons and husband were not at the dinner table. When she burst through the door, only to be caught by a hyper-strong, polymer filament net, she became downright cranky. As her husband and sons struggled to free her from her bonds, she realized that she was indeed fortunate that they hadn't installed the high-voltage discharge circuitry…yet. Still, she was more than a little peeved at her family for forgetting dinner. She supervised, with crossed arms and a tapping foot, as her 'three boys' deactivated the robot. Then she marched all three to the bathroom to wash up for dinner, wishing that Kim was still at home to help her control them.

* * *

_Thank you all, once again, for the continued interest and support. I must again express my appreciation to Joe Stoppinghem for his continued beta work._

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_

_18_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Thanksgiving Weekend

Light came slowly to his eyes, much like the awareness that came slowly to his mind. Thoughts were sluggish, as if they were struggling through deep mud inside the skull. He blinked his eyes, with eyelids he barely remembered he had, and tried to focus on where he was and even who he was.

This first response was a moment of panic. He was underwater! For a few moments, he thrashed wildly before realizing he was breathing with no problems. His rational mind exerted its dominance, recalling that he had a very good reason for being submerged even though it couldn't actually recall the reason, yet.

Movement caught his gaze and he looked through the clear walls of his container to see a familiar face. Miss Go touched a control and he felt pressure underneath him as a net hoisted him up and out of the water. He shivered slightly as a crane deposited him on some sort of medical bed. A space heater kicked on, warming him while Miss Go removed his breathing tube.

"How long…" he gasped out, before his own voice shocked him into silence. It had always been high pitched but now it had a whistling quality.

"A few weeks," the geneticist informed him. "Now relax, I have to make sure that everything's working the way that it should."

Aviarius tried to relax as Miss Go performed her tests. He was a little concerned, since he was having trouble moving his legs and his arms seemed much heavier than they had before. On the other hand, he could easily pick out minute details on the high ceiling.

"Okay, we're done," Miss Go informed him. "It's going to take you some hard work to adapt yourself to this new body but I'm sure you're up to the task."

"What's happened to my voice?" He whistled in response.

"It's part of your new body," she replied, with a smile. "Now, sit here while I get a mirror. I think you need to see your transformation."

Aviarius was more than a little nervous, perched on the bed, waiting for the mirror and wondering just what he had done to himself. He forced himself to sit calmly as she uncovered a full-length mirror in front of him.

He had never been a tall man, but was even shorter now. His face was longer and thinner, looking like a bird's beak. The major changes, however, had affected his body. Wings had replaced his arms. For a moment, he felt panic that he wouldn't be able to create and use the hi-tech devices that had been his trademark. Then he noticed that he still had his fingers…or at least most of them."

"You should still have use of your hands," Miss Go assured him, after guessing his concern. "Fold your wings and try."

It took Aviarius a couple of tries to fold his wings, after which he realized that his pinky had extended to form his outer wings. While he wouldn't have the manual dexterity he used to, he would be able to adapt. Satisfied, he continued the self-examination.

The next thing he noticed was that his knees bent forward, much like a bird's. Walking would be difficult; he would either have to hop or strut. Lower down, his feet had transformed into grasping claws. There was no way he would ever be able to put on shoes again. Flexing his claws, he realized that he would probably be able to use them to manipulate objects.

"My appearance has changed more than I had expected," he informed his new master, in his new, whistling voice.

"Perhaps I wasn't terribly clear about this," Miss Go shrugged. "I'm afraid you won't be able to mingle with the general public anymore."

"I've never seen much of a need to do so," Aviarius whistled back. "Where am I and what's the plan?"

"You're in a secure, private facility outside of Middleton," she informed him. "The nearest neighbor is seven miles away, so you'll be able to come to grips with your new body here. That's the plan; you'll teach yourself to fly and get ready for the next step."

"What's the next step?"

"I'm taking care of that. I'll locate Monty and Shego; then we'll move you into position, wherever that will be. You need to learn to use your new body as soon as possible so you'll be ready to move. You'll also need to learn to control your new servants."

"Servants?"

Miss Go simply smiled and walked across the room to where a tarp covered the far wall. She pulled a cord and the tarp fell away, exposing three cages recessed into the wall. Aviarius's eyes widened when he saw the contents.

"Everyone who knows Miss Go thinks I'm a sweet, bubbly young teacher," she explained. "If they knew the truth, they would probably think I'm a witch so I thought, why not flying monkeys?"

Aviarius didn't trust his new legs to carry him across the room but his improved eyesight allowed him to study Go's creations. They looked like very small monkeys with eagles' wings.

"They're smaller, simpler versions of you," Go explained. "They should have plenty of intelligence to train. Now, when are you going to be ready to learn how to use your new body? I have to look into some…other matters."

"There's no time like the present," Aviarius told her. He hoped from the medical bed to the floor and bounced a couple of times, testing his legs' strength. He could sense the power his new extremities had, as well as the hardness and sharpness in his new claws.

"_Oh yes,"_ he thought. _"It's going to be good to meet up with Fiske again."_

* * *

The births had neither joy nor sorrow; nor neither pain nor triumph. The attending technicians simply took up their surgical instruments and removed the fetuses; they refused to think of them as children, at the preordained time. While two technicians attended to the newborns, a third carted off the 'production vessels' to the facility's incinerator, for disposal.

Of course the newborns cried, they had no way of knowing that they had no true mothers to comfort them so they demanded attention in the only way they could. The technicians ignored the cries as best they could and tested them for weight, color and response. After a few minutes, satisfied with the readings, they summoned the surrogate mothers to care for the infants. The lead technician left the facility to place a call from another location.

"Successful births," he reported to his employer. "No extraordinary powers are evident but they're healthy."

"Excellent," Miss Go replied. "Have the surrogates taken over?"

"Yes," he reported. "I know we've already gone over this but since you put me in charge of your Seattle operation, I'm compelled to bring it up again. Keeping these kids will bring on a great deal of risk for no gain. I suggest we eliminate the liabilities."

"You won't," Miss Go told him, with a voice that offered no argument. "Genetics is tricky. You never know when something…interesting…will crop up."

* * *

"Is this the first time you've spent Thanksgiving away from your family?"

"Yes, but don't think I'm feeling bad about it," Bonnie told Will. She looked around the Madrid restaurant. While the two were dining on turkey (there were enough American tourists and businessmen around that this establishment found it profitable to offer the poultry product) the atmosphere didn't match what Bonnie really wanted.

It wasn't the fact that the two were having their 'Thanksgiving Dinner' on Saturday, rather than Thursday. They both realized that there had been just too much work preparing for the Saturday show that they just couldn't take off the time on the traditional day. Bonnie couldn't complain about the food, which was considerably better than what the Rockwaller women traditionally put on the table. She also couldn't fault the company, as Will Du was playing his part to the hilt, being a doting yet witty boyfriend. No, the problem was the setting.

While Bonnie would usually approve of the candlelit, romantic setting, Thanksgiving Dinner should have been different. While she had never enjoyed the family dinners with just her mother, her sisters and her only barely remembered father, she had enjoyed those she had spent with other relatives. Thanksgiving Dinner should be in a well-lit room, at a crowded table. Instead of romantic, witty banter there should be mundane conversation about jobs, family, homes and plans for the future. Bonnie Rockwaller hated to admit it, but she envied the supportive family Kim Possible had.

A wistful smile found its way on her face as she thought about how her rival must have spent the holiday. The Stoppables and Possibles had probably gathered in the Possible home. Mrs. Dr. Possible and Mrs. Stoppable, with some help from Ron, had probably gone all out with the dinner. The house would be chaotic, of course. Kim's younger brothers had probably torn through the house, causing all sorts of mayhem despite Kim's and their fathers' best efforts to contain them. Yet at the end of the day, they would have all gathered to enjoy the companionship, support and family ties that they shared. She was sure that all of the adults had watched Kim and Ron like hawks, wondering if he would take the opportunity to pop the question and formally link the two families.

That was something else she was sure would happen, sooner or later. Ron would pop the question to K and K would answer yes. She stifled an amused snort when she pictured the scene. She could picture Ron trying to do the old fashioned, gentlemanly thing by dropping to one knee and pulling out the ring. The only problem with the scenario was that Bonnie was sure K wouldn't even let him get to that knee. The moment he made the move, K was going to say yes, haul him bodily back to his feet and latch her mouth onto his, while the combined families applauded their approval. Thinking of that scene, she couldn't hold back a sad sigh.

"What's bothering you, Rocky?"

"Nothing, really," Bonnie replied, bringing herself back to the here and now.

"I'm not buying it. First your frown looks like its ready to open your mouth, then you're smiling, then you're ready to laugh and then you're sad again. Is there something wrong with the meal?"

"No," Bonnie took a sip of her iced tea (while she was delighted to learn that she could have wine, legally, she decided that her status as a recovering addict made such a selection unwise) to give her some time to put her thoughts into words. "I'm just thinking about my classmates and what most of them must have done on the holiday. For one thing, most of them would have celebrated it on Thursday."

"Did it really bother you spending Thursday preparing for today's show?"

"No, that's a little thing. What bothers me is that Thanksgiving is supposed to be spent with family and friends. What really bothers me is that I don't have any family that I really miss not spending the holiday with. To be honest, I'm just fine staying away from my sisters and since mom is always with them, I'd rather not be with her, either. I guess what really tanks is that there's nobody out there who really misses me."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Du offered. "Surely you have some friends and other family members."

"I have a few cousins that think of me every once in awhile," she admitted. "But we were never all that close as a family." She rallied a bit, "how about you? What was Thanksgiving like when you were still with your parents?"

"My parents were very career minded," Du told her. "And they didn't really get into the holiday spirit. They'd call their parents but that was about as far as it went. We would have a typical meal and my parents would sit me down and quiz me on my homework."

"That doesn't sound like much of a celebration," Bonnie commented, while smiling at the idea that someone else had a less than perfect home life.

"We got by," Will shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, the work my parents devoted to my academics got me through high school in three years, then through college in three more. I might not have had a Norman Rockwell childhood but I got a head start on my career. Speaking of kick starting your career, your ballet and cheerleading seem to have worked for you in this last show."

"Child's play," Bonnie said, with a negligent wave and a very warm smile at the compliment. "Any cheerleader on the Middleton Squad who couldn't perform a series of flips followed by a split wouldn't have been on the prime squad."

Of course, Bonnie was very pleased with the way things had worked out. Shortly after the fourth show, Cocoa Banana himself had made the comment that he would like to see one of the models doing something active while modeling the active wear. After several of the headline models had performed some various dance moves, the former cheerleader executed two front flips, the second with a half twist, then two back flips and ended with a split. Cocoa Banana had immediately insisted that she perform this routine during the next show. The director had made a few changes, which Cocoa had approved.

Bonnie still wasn't a headlining model but she had a much more active part in the show. Earlier today, while top model Ann O'Recksic had sashayed down the runway in a casual wear ensemble, Bonnie had performed her routine. When Ann reached a point halfway down the runway, Bonnie executed her series of flips, passing the other model, then dropped into a split and gestured towards the headlining model, who struck a pose next to her. After Ann performed a pirouette and strutted back towards the backstage, Bonnie sprang to her feet and cartwheeled back down the runway and through the opening to the backstage.

The gasps and applause had been most satisfying.

"Still, you got some attention. For a model, that has to be a real benefit."

"Not all the attention was positive," Bonnie shook her head. While most of the girls had been excited and supportive, a couple had shot Bonnie some dark looks. One, a fellow background model, had decided to make her displeasure known by hip-bumping the brunette later in the show, when both were posing in the background while two headliners were on the runway.

The other girl quickly learned her mistake. Bonnie Rockwaller wasn't a fighter but she was an athlete. She had also played this subtle game of discreet brawling with Kim Possible herself. As the two models turned around, Bonnie stealthily buried her forearm into the other girl's belly. Barely able to keep her pose, the other girl didn't return the shot and the rest of the show went smoothly. Of course, she glared at Bonnie after the show, warning the Brunette that she would be taking more shots in the future.

"Even if all of the attention wasn't positive, most of it was," Du countered. "That has to be gratifying."

"It is," Bonnie admitted. She toyed with her meal for a few moments, trying to come up with a way to ask the question. Finally, she decided to just take the plunge.

"Will," she asked. "What's going to become of us after this miss…er…tour is over?"

"I'll go back to my job," the agent answered. "And you'll probably be buried under modeling offers."

"That's not what I meant," Bonnie took a deep breath. "I don't mean what's going to happen to me and what's going to happen to you. I mean, what's going to happen to _**us**_."

Du looked confused for a few moments, then his eyes widened as her realized exactly what Bonnie was asking.

"This might not be the best place for a private conversation," Du told his companion, with a pointed glance at the tables around them.

"Okay, that's fine," Bonnie nodded. "But we're going to talk about this as soon as we get back to the room."

"Fair enough," Du told her, with an expression that mixed hope and dread.

* * *

Thanksgiving was supposed to be a happy time, a time when families reunited. Ron Stoppable's family had reunited; they had made the long trip from Middleton to Missoula for the game. His second family was there, as well. The doctors Possible had made the trip as well and Kim was on the sidelines with the rest of the cheerleaders. Her uncle Slim and cousin Joss had also made the trip. He should be happy but he could only think of how he had let everyone down.

Last week, he had been overjoyed. He had been the team's star, rushing for over two hundred yards against the University of Nebraska at Omaha. He had scored three touchdowns and a two-point conversion, leading the Miners past the Mavericks for the first quarterfinal victory in Upperton University history. Of course, this victory had given the Miners the dubious reward of a trip to Missoula to play perennial AA powerhouse Montana.

Ron had foregone the trip home on Thanksgiving Day on Thursday, electing to stay with the team and practice. He was also aware that if he had gone home, his mother's and Mrs. Possible's cooking would have probably left him incapable of walking, much less running. Since Ms. Hatchet had left to visit her cousin, Kim had gone home for Thanksgiving, to keep any rumors from starting. She had returned Friday morning to make the trip to Missoula. Ron had been surprised by how many students showed up on Friday to see the team off.

Now the cheers with which his fellow students had seen the team off sounded like hollow mockery in his memory. He could only sit on the sidelines, helpless, as the Grizzlies ran out the last few seconds with a six-point lead. The worst part was the sure knowledge that he had caused this loss by fumbling just moments earlier.

It had been a rough, hard-hitting game from the opening kickoff. The intermittent snow that had been falling all week had settled in and decided to dump a mixture of rain and snow just before kickoff, leaving the field a sea of mud. Still, the two teams put on a game that nobody in the stands even considered leaving in favor of warmer, drier surroundings. With the wind, rain and snow inhibiting both teams' passing games, the Miners and Grizzlies settled in to a game of just pounding the ball at each other.

As the best back on the Miners' team, Ron got the lion's share of the carries and he was feeling it right now. Finally, halfway through the fourth quarter and trailing by fourteen points, the Miners caught a break. Montana's All-American strong safety twisted his knee on the uncertain footing, forcing him to leave the game. His replacement, although capable, couldn't handle Jeremy when the fullback threw his blocks. It took time, but the Miners drove the length of the field for a touchdown. Emboldened by the drive, Coach Hartmann kept his offense on the field, scoring a two-point conversion.

The Miners' defense, which had been starting to falter, rallied on the next series, forcing the Grizzlies to punt. With a little over four minutes left in the game, the Miners' offensive squad started a grueling, grinding drive down the field. Ron hammered into the line again and again, seldom gaining over five yards with each carry. With the field torn and slippery, he couldn't use the quick cuts and stops that had gained him so many yards during the season. Still, the Miners kept driving towards the goal line.

Inside the Grizzlies' five-yard line, Ron took another handoff and bounced the run to the outside. The Miners' fans jumped to their feet when they saw Ron's almost unobstructed path to the end zone. The only Grizzly between Ron and the winning score was the backup strong safety, who was struggling with Jeremy. That same strong safety, who had failed to make the tackle so many times that quarter, suddenly came through. He shrugged off Jeremy's block and, in a textbook tackle, planted his helmet squarely on the ball.

The Grizzlies recovered the mad scramble for the ball, leaving Ron with nothing to do but return to the bench, weathering Coach Hartmann's butt chewing on the way, and drop his face into his hands. He was cold, wet, hurting and miserable. He barely even heard the final gun.

Kim was more than a little worried about Ron as the final seconds ticked away. She knew he had to be down about the fumble plus he had taken the worst beating he had ever taken in a game. Not only that, at some point one of the other players, she didn't know if it was a Miner or a Grizzly, had stepped on his forearm. The other player's cleats had cut several gashes in his forearm, which the trainer had crudely stitched closed. Ron had stayed in the game, which meant exposing the wound to continued mud. Her boyfriend would probably be fighting off an infection in the days to come.

What really worried her was how the team would react. If the team blamed him for the loss, it would drive him into a funk could last for weeks. On the other hand, if the team rallied behind him, he would come back determined to do better in the future. Since she wasn't on the team, the players wouldn't welcome her input. She could only hope that his teammates would give him the benefit of the doubt.

As the last few seconds ticked away, Lisa called for a last routine. Kim joined the other cheerleaders in trying to rally the Upperton U fans one last time for the season and make them leave on a happier note. Still, even as she performed with the other cheerleaders, she couldn't help but glance towards her boyfriend.

* * *

"Okay, I'm waiting," Bonnie told her partner, the moment they returned to their room. "Is there going to be an us after this mission?"

"I wish there could be," Du confessed. "But it just can't happen."

"Why not?" Bonnie demanded. "I don't know what it is but I'm starting to feel something for you and I know you're starting to feel something for me! Why can't this keep going after we're done here?"

"I'm too old for you, Bonnie," Will explained. "You're still just a teenager."

"And you're only twenty-three," Bonnie snapped back. "You told me that you graduated high school in three years, at sixteen years old. You got your degree in three years before joining Global Justice. After that, you shot right to the top. You're only four years older than I am!"

"It isn't just the years, it's the mileage."

"What's that supposed to mean!"

"It means that I've gone through a whole lot more than you have. Bonnie, I know that your family life hasn't been good…"

"_**THAT'S**_ an understatement."

"But it's still been a family life. You haven't spent the last couple years dealing with criminals, crimes and the…the aftermath." Du caught Bonnie's gaze with his own, trying to push his own feelings through his eyes even as he spoke. "Bonnie, a twenty-three year old bartender, who's been tending bar for the last two years, is older than a twenty-five year old intern, fresh out of school. You've spent your life in your home's shelter while I've spent the last three in the middle of the worst the world has to offer."

"Are you forgetting Pump? Will, I'm no pure little innocent! I've done the terrible things that you're talking about! I know that you're still a good person, no matter what you've dealt with! Why can't I even have a chance at being part of that life?"

"Still a good person? Bonnie, remember the talk we had on the way back from Senior's Island? When I told you that Global Justice has to be careful with its agents because we have to do things our morals don't always agree with? I'm one of those people that's crossed that moral line, Bonnie. I've been in affairs, at Global Justice's orders, before. Do you still think I'm a good person?"

"Yes!" Bonnie answered, without a moment's hesitation. "Do you think you have the monopoly on bad moves? I've slept with boys just for the status of having one of the school's food chain elite on my arm! At least you were under orders from a law enforcement agency!"

"But would you do it again?" Will asked. "Would you do it even if you were in a relationship with someone else? I will! That's why all of Global Justice's top agents are either single or divorced. We're married to the agency and will do anything…_**ANYTHING**_…to accomplish our missions. That might mean seduction, blackmail or even killing! That's an awful lot of baggage to bring into a relationship and it's not fair to the other person…not fair to you!"

"So I don't get any say in what's fair to me?" Bonnie asked, her voice much quieter. "I don't even get a chance to say what I'm willing to endure?"

"I can't allow it," Du insisted. "Bonnie, you're putting your life back together. Sure, Global Justice has given you some breaks but you've made the most of them. You have a chance at a decent life, do you really want to put up with the idea of a boyfriend, or more, that may have to spend months living with another woman?"

"Are you so sure I can't deal with that?"

"Let me ask you this right now. What will you do if we succeed? What will you do if Trudy or Ellie invites us into their home and shows an interest in me? God help me but if that happens, I'll be forced to drop you and shack up with her!"

"Could you really do that?"

"Yes! I'd hate myself for it, but I'd do it! My mission is to infiltrate either Trudy Dementor's or Elisabeth Minated's life _**and**_ to keep you safe…in that order. If I have to leave you to accomplish both missions, I'll do it in a heartbeat."

"Where will that leave me?"

"It will leave you as an up and coming Club Banana model, with a career, fame, and swarms of handsome, wealthy, charming young men, who don't have a fraction of the baggage I do, clamoring for your attention. It will leave you with a chance for the relationship you deserve!"

"Do you really think I'm that shallow?"

"No but you aren't thinking clearly right now. Missions are like that; they're exciting and stressful. You're away from home, living an exciting life, doing something that stirs your blood. What you're feeling right now is the emotion and excitement that this brings on. After the mission, when the emotions settle and reality kicks in, you'll see that I'm right."

"I hate you!" Bonnie shrieked. She slapped Will across the face and stormed out of the room's door, barely hearing Will calling her name. She fled down the corridor, barely able to see through her tears.

Bonnie found herself at a fire escape and, wanting to be alone, fled down the stairs. She burst through the exit at the bottom and found herself in a dark alley. Still crying, she turned and ran, not paying attention to where she was going. She didn't know how far and how long she ran before she collided with a very large body.

"Well, well, well," the burly man she had run into remarked, in thickly accented English. "If it isn't the little bitch we were coming to visit anyway!" With a lightning-fast movement, he lashed out and seized Bonnie's arm, his massive hand completely encircling her biceps.

"You shouldn't have upstaged Dora," the other chuckled. "We were on our way to make sure you don't do it again but this alley is even better."

"Yeah, Dora read up on you," the first rumbled. "You were a dealer and a junkie before you joined the tour."

"A junkie slips out of her room to score a fix," the second added, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. "And overdoses. Who's going to be curious about it? Nobody's going to wonder about the other models who move up and get more publicity."

Realizing what they were about to do, Bonnie drew in her breath to scream for help.

"Feel free to scream," the first rumbled. "This alley gets a lot of it. Nobody's going to come until it's too late."

Bonnie suspected he was telling the truth but, as the first man held her immobile and the second brought the syringe to her arm, she screamed anyway.

* * *

Ron roused himself to trot onto the field after the final gun. While most of the Grizzlies were celebrating with their fans and fellow students, almost all of them broke off at one point or another to shake hands, exchange hugs and talk a little with the Miners. Ron didn't receive any heckling or taunting, he was sure that would come in the locker room, later. Instead, most of the Grizzlies that talked to him expressed the opinion that he shouldn't let the fumble get him down. His counterpart, the Grizzlies starting running back, made a point to tell Ron that the Miners would need him next year.

Kim, her parents and his parents made their way through the milling throng to join him. His mother immediately placed Hanna in his arms. This caused him to smile, even though he was still upset about blowing the game. Kim wiped the mud off of one spot on his cheek and kissed him there, making him blush, Hanna giggle and Joss snicker. He only had a few minutes to talk to the assembled families before Coach Hartmann bellowed for his team to hit the locker room. Ron took a deep breath, handed Hanna back to his mother and left to meet his doom.

Kim crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.

* * *

Bonnie struggled but couldn't break free; the man-mountain holding her was simply too strong. She screamed but she knew that even if someone came to investigate, there was no way they would arrive in time. She kicked and bit in a last show of defiance prompting one of the thugs to backhand her, leaving her stunned. They pressed her against a wall and the second thug brought the syringe to her arm….

But went sprawling before he could punch the needle into a vein.

With a roar of anger, the hulking brute released Bonnie and turned to face his companion's assailant. Only the wall kept Bonnie upright as she saw the thug face off against Will Du.

"You picked the wrong time to be a hero," the monster rumbled. He punctuated his remark by lashing out with a beefy fist. What followed stunned Bonnie almost as much as the thug had.

The somewhat clueless, overly regulated Will Du suddenly became a blur of motion. Du ducked the punch and kicked the thug's knee. The big man screamed in rage and pain but was silenced by Du's fist in his mouth. Du's other fist crashed into the side of the thug's head. The man sprawled at Bonnie's feet while the second thug regained his feet and charged Du.

Bonnie couldn't believe it. She had overheard K complaining to Ron a couple of times about this very man. From these overheard (she refused, even in her stunned state, to consider it eavesdropping) conversations, she assumed that Du was some sort of bureaucratic buffoon. Furthermore, from the few times she had observed K and Ron fighting bad guys, once being on the receiving end of Ron's grappling abilities, she assumed that all such clashes were demonstrations of skill and finesse. Instead, Du was fighting in a savage style, hammering his opponents.

The second thug, much smaller than his companion, seemed to have more skill. He kicked Will in the stomach, knocking the agent back against a wall. The thug followed up his kick with a punch at the agent's head. Will blocked the punch while simultaneously kicking the man in the groin. As the crook sagged, Will grabbed his head with both hands and drove his knee into the man's face. The thug sprawled, unmoving, on the ground.

"Don't move!" Will commanded the first thug, who was making a feeble attempt to regain his feet. Will put a foot on the back of the thug's head and drove his face into the ground.

"Bonnie, are you hurt?" The agent asked the still dazed young woman.

"Bonnie, listen to me!" He snapped, when she didn't respond. "Are you hurt?"

Bonnie somehow managed to shake her head.

"Try to relax," he commanded her. "I'm calling the police."

Bonnie started to shake and sob uncontrollably, the reality of what nearly happened to her finally sinking in.

* * *

"Men, gather around," Coach Hartmann's voice was much quieter than the bellowing roar the team was used to hearing. The muddy, battered Miners gathered around their coach, slightly miffed at the delay in getting into hot showers and dry clothes.

"Okay, we lost the game," the coach began. Ron was surprised that he didn't have a phalanx of stares directed his way. "And there's going to be a lot of finger pointing and 'what could have been' flying around in the days to come. Before that starts, Roger has asked to have a word with everyone…Roger?"

"I'm a fifth-year senior," the quarterback announced, taking the coaches place in the center of the locker room. "So are most of the other starters. Before we all get down on ourselves or, what's even worse, each other, I'd like to ask all of the other fifth years if this was our best year at Upperton."

A round of nods and a murmur of agreement rumbled around the room.

"Okay, Ron fumbled late in the game," he continued, while Ron cringed. "And everyone's going to remember it. We're supposed to be smarter; we're supposed to be in the know. Coach has already had a word with Ron but before any of us start saying that he cost us the game, I'd like to point out a couple of things. First of all, I missed three open receivers and I dropped a ball in the third quarter. Sure, we didn't lose my fumble but it meant we had to punt. If we hadn't punted, if we had been able to keep the drive going, would we have won this game?"

"I'm not going to say names," he told everyone. "But we had dropped balls and missed blocks, as well. On the defensive side, can all of you honestly say that you made every tackle, covered every receiver or tied up every blocker you were supposed to? If anyone here wants to start pointing fingers, and this includes me, ask yourself if you executed your game perfectly, before you start making comments about anyone else."

"Before any of you backups start talking," he continued. "Ask yourselves why you didn't outplay the starter for the starting position and play better a better game than he did." He delivered this last remark with a sidelong glance at Steve, a junior running back who Ron had beaten for the starting position. Steve had been one of Ron's most vocal critics, all year long.

"I'm disappointed," Roger concluded. "I really hoped we could make it to the big show and now I'm never going to have another chance. For all of us fifth years, this was probably our last, real game ever. But I have to say this; we made it farther than I thought we would and I don't want to see this season turn into a bunch of crybabies whining about not making it to the big show. We went out there, we played our best and we got beat. The only ones of us I want to see pointing fingers are those who played a perfect game. The only ones I want to see hanging their heads are the ones who didn't give it their best." He delivered this last sentence with a very pointed look at Ron.

With nothing more to say, Roger stalked back to his locker with his head held up high.

"I don't have anything else to add," Coach Hartmann said, striding to the spot Roger had just left. "We went out there, we played hard and we came up short. It happens. Now, hit the showers and get dressed. The busses leave in one hour. We'll stop for a meal before we leave Missoula."

* * *

Bonnie was still trembling and clinging to Will's arm when they finally reached their room. The last two hours had been both exhausting and confusing. After incapacitating the two goons, Du had become the picture of efficiency. He used his satellite phone to summon the local police and had kept the curious bystanders that had shown up away from the scene, so that the police could collect untainted evidence. After that, he had acted as a translator, helping Bonnie to communicate with the police.

Of course, they had to go to the police station so that the police could take Bonnie's report. Will had vanished for a few, terrifying moments but he quickly reappeared with an icepack. He held the cold compress against Bonnie's cheek, keeping the swelling from the thug's backhand down while translating for her. After the police finished taking Bonnie's report, they insisted she stay at the station while they spoke to the two goons. Du took the opportunity to call the tour's director and report the incident.

It seemed to take forever but had actually taken less than an hour for the police to determine that Bonnie was telling the truth. As Du led her out of the police station, one of the investigators thanked the undercover agent for keeping the crime area clear and the evidence uncontaminated. Of course, they couldn't go directly to their room.

The tour's director was waiting for them at the hotel and immediately herded them to his suite where they had a speaker phone conversation with Cocoa Banana himself. While the excitable designer was apologizing to Bonnie for her injury, a commotion sounded from lower in the hotel and the director received a local call. One, or perhaps both, of Bonnie's assailants had ratted Dora out and the police were arresting the other background model. Club Banana was facing a major scandal.

Du pointed out that neither he nor Bonnie could help deal with the repercussions and that Bonnie was exhausted, in pain and emotionally drained. He half carried her back to their room.

"I'll just find someplace else to sleep tonight," he told her, once they were by themselves. "After everything that happened tonight, I don't think you need me arou…" she silenced him by clinging to him, her arms around his waist and her face buried in his chest.

"Don't leave me alone," she pleaded, her voice slightly muffled. "I don't want to be alone right now."

"Okay," he answered, patting her back rather awkwardly. "Lets get you to sleep. You need your rest."

Bonnie nodded and slipped into the bathroom to change into her pajamas. By the time she returned to the bedroom, Will was already in his bed. She shocked him by slipping into bed with him.

"Bonnie, we talked about this!" He protested. "I don't think this is a good id…"

"I don't want to be alone," she repeated. "Will, I don't want to…_**sleep**_…with you, I just want to know you're here. Can you do that for me?"

Will nodded and the two settled in to try to get some rest. They didn't make love and they didn't even cuddle. After a couple of minutes, Bonnie settled into a fitful sleep. Every once in awhile, she would whimper and squirm as she slept. When that happened she would reach out; her hand would find Will and she would calm down; dropping into a deeper slumber. As for Will, he didn't sleep. He spent the entire night observing how his presence calmed Bonnie, knowing that he simply couldn't allow things to progress any farther; knowing that things had gone too far already.

Will Du spent the entire night cursing himself for being a weak, emotional fool.

* * *

Although Kim wasn't exactly pleased with the travel arrangements back to Upperton, she understood the need. Upperton University had a somewhat strict non-fraternization policy between players and cheerleaders. While the University didn't mind players and cheerleaders dating and even showing an acceptable level of affection during a school function, it didn't allow the players and cheerleaders any private time with each other during school functions. Translated to reality, this meant that while the hug and peck on the cheek Kim had given Ron after the game was perfectly fine, sitting together and cuddling for the long bus ride back to Upperton was out of the question. Instead, Kim rode in the cheerleaders' minibus while Ron rode in one of the team busses.

Still, she was feeling much better about her boyfriend's state of mind. She didn't know exactly what had been said in the locker room but the team came out with a much better attitude than when it went in. The players, although disappointed, were clearly upbeat and not pointing fingers at each other. The team and the cheerleaders stopped at a theme restaurant for a meal, which allowed Kim and Ron to spend a little time with each other and with the combined Stoppables and Possibles. This was a little embarrassing, since Kim's mom insisted on giving Ron's injuries a cursory examination.

While that was happening, Joss subjected Kim to a rather intense questioning session. The younger Possible girl was interested in the 'progress' Kim's relationship with Ron had made and was honestly wondering why Kim hadn't moved things along farther, so to speak. Kim left Missoula determined to find a hobby for Joss. The younger girl definitely needed something to occupy her mind.

Kim slept through most of the ride back to Upperton, being roused by police lights and sirens just outside of town. Despite the fact that it was the wee hours of the morning, the Upperton Police Department escorted the team to the University Campus, where a large throng had gathered. Kim was surprised at first, then she recalled that this was the first time the Upperton football team had reached the semifinals. As the busses pulled onto the campus, Kim saw a speaking platform, with a microphone, set up on the quad.

"Okay, we're not in uniform but that doesn't matter," Lisa called to her squad. "As soon as the bus stops, we're getting out and getting just in front of the platform. We'll do our routines there."

Lisa had been cheerleading a long time and knew that the squad's job was to keep the crowd under control. While the football team stumbled off of the busses, clearly wondering what to do next, the squad rushed to the platform and started a routine, distracting the crowd. This gave the team the chance to realize just what was going on. A few minutes later, Roger stepped onto the platform and tested the microphone.

"Well, it was a pretty good year, wasn't it?" He asked the crowd. A loud cheer answered him.

"I really appreciate you all showing up at this early hour," he continued. "But I have to ask, do you all know that we lost the game?"

The laughter that answered him lifted everyone's spirits. It took the better part of an hour but most of the team's seniors and stars (Ron included) addressed the crowd and thanked them for their support. By the time the two teens finally got out of the Sloth and stumbled into their apartment, they were too exhausted to climb the stairs to their rooms. Instead, they simply flopped down on the couch, cuddled up to each other and dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

They never noticed Ms. Hatchet looking at them with an approving grin.

* * *

_A/N: _

_Again, I'd like to thank everyone whose stuck with me through this story. I really appreciate the feedback, folks, so let me know if I'm doing well and let me know where I'm going wrong with this tale. _

_A huge thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for beta reading this story even while he publishes his own. Thanks Joe._

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	11. Semester Break

Chapter 11: Semester Break

"So how does it feel to have a full semester of college under your belt, Ronald?"

"Not…much…different…dad," Ron answered his father, struggling to force the words out through the death-grip hug Hanna was applying around his neck. "I have to admit that the academics are a lot rougher than high school."

"That's the way of the world, son," Gene Stoppable smiled fondly at his only son. "The world will add challenges as you become more capable of meeting them."

Gene was truly proud of the boy. Only a couple of years ago, he was convinced that Ron would wind up in some sort of a marginally skilled job. With the effort the boy…no, the young man had exerted to better himself academically during the last year and a half of high school, combined with his athletic prowess, many more doors had opened for him.

"Well, right now the only challenge I'm looking forward to is an evening of Hanna roughhousing."

Hanna crowed her approval at this declaration.

Gene smiled in contentment. Kimberly and Ronald had just finished their finals at Upperton University earlier that day. Kimberly had dropped Ronald off (Gene smiled wider, recalling how the two teens had 'said goodbye' out front) before heading home. Ronald had bounded in, with the mandatory bag full of dirty laundry, and had shocked Gene by not immediately running off to spend more time with Kim. Hanna had missed her big brother terribly and Gene was grateful that Ron was willing to spend time with her.

"So where's mom?" Ron asked, drawing Gene back to the here and now.

"She's working at a client's office. They're working for a Japanese firm, who wants to increase sales in the US. The time difference makes it a little tricky so your mother and her client are spending a little extra time to prepare for the presentation."

A particularly loud burst of giggles from Hanna, prompted by Ron giving her a belly-raspberry, interrupted Gene Stoppable. He gave his children a few minutes to settle down before continuing.

"How about you, son? What plans do you have for your break?"

"Well, Oscar should get in later tonight and Felix isn't getting back until tomorrow afternoon," Ron told him. "Oscar and I are going to get together tomorrow afternoon, at the Pit, and work out with the team." One of the things Ron had found most endearing about high school wrestling was the graduates coming back to work out with the team. While Ron hadn't been wrestling in college, he was in good enough shape that he shouldn't make a complete fool out of himself.

While he no longer wrestled competitively, he still remembered the mat.

"Felix, Oscar and I are planning on hanging out tomorrow night." He finished.

"You're not going to spend time with Kim?" Gene was honestly shocked.

"Cindy will get in tonight, Monique's flight comes in tomorrow morning and Tara's supposed to show up tomorrow afternoon. I figured that KP would want some 'girl time'." While Ron loved every minute he could spend with Kim, he didn't begrudge her the time she spent with her other friends. While he honestly liked Monique, Tara and Cindy, the very thought of being the only guy around that bunch made him shudder. "We'll get the entire gang together the day after tomorrow, or sometime like that."

"So how has life been for you, other than academics?" Gene asked.

"I really can't complain. The team didn't get down on me for losing that fumble and we had a pretty good year on the field."

"How about you and Kimberly?"

"Life has gotten a lot easier since Warren did his bit. There are still some reporters and protestors, every once in awhile, but not very many." Ron suddenly shuddered with laughter.

"What's so funny?" Hanna asked.

"Han?" Ron's shock silenced his laughter. "Since when do you make sentences?"

"What?" Han asked.

"It happens Ronald," Gene told his son. "She has really been developing her vocabulary. You spend the first couple of years getting them to walk and talk…"

"And the next twenty trying to get them to sit down and listen," Ron finished for his father. "You caught me by surprise, Han."

Hanna started giggling again.

"She makes a valid point, son. What had you laughing so hard?"

"Oh, the last demonstrator that showed up at our house," Ron explained. "She wasn't a protestor, she was sort of a fan. She believed that KP was a feminine incarnation of Thor, the thunder god. Anyway, this poor girl spent two days out in front of the house, in the cold and snow, waving this sledgehammer around and calling for KP to come out and sweep all the false gods away. Finally, KP realized that she just wasn't going to leave so she went out and tried to talk to her. Of course, KP told her that she was just an average girl."

"How did her fan take it?" Gene asked.

"That's the funny part, she refused to believe that KP wasn't a deity. She said that only a true god would deny her own divinity and that the denial only proved that Kim was what she claimed that she wasn't."

"What did Kimberly do then?"

"She told me, later, that she was just about to say that she was Thor, in an effort to make the girl give up but she realized that if she claimed to be a god, the girl would really be convinced that she was a god. Ms. Hatchet came up with a solution."

"Oh?"

"There's a small church two blocks away from our house. Ms. Hatchet took KP and the girl there for a talk with the pastor. I'll admit that I'm not as up on my own faith as I should be, so taking her to someone more educated in such matters seemed to be a good thing."

"I take it that the girl didn't show up again?"

"No, she didn't. I think that the pastor called some social organizations. The poor girl had more problems than confusing KP for a burly, bearded Scandinavian deity, so she's getting the help she needs."

"How about your missions?"

"They're going okay," Ron said, a little evasively. While the missions had been going well, he couldn't tell his father about the instance a couple of weeks before the last game, when the sudden knowledge that DNAmy was manipulating monkey DNA had struck him, once again. The MMP had to remain secret, so he could only discus it with KP, Yori and Sensei. Sensei had been his usual, cryptic self, saying that the power itself would guide him to where he needed to be.

Gene Stoppable didn't miss the far-away look on his son's face. He knew that his son had become involved with secret organizations and couldn't divulge details to his own family. The knowledge both saddened the elder Stoppable and made him proud of his son. Ron had a foot in a shadow world of clandestine agencies and undercover agents. While Gene felt sad that his son couldn't share these experiences with him, he was proud that the young man had earned the right to glimpse this world.

"I know that Rita is still spewing her tripe," he said, to change the subject. "What ever happened to that Marla woman?"

"According to Warren, her station offered her a transfer and she accepted. She's somewhere in Wyoming now."

"I hope she never bothers you again."

"Me too, dad. It's funny; Warren seemed kind of sorry for her. He said that she listened to the wrong people and got the wrong idea what reporting was all about."

"Well, as long as Rita no longer has a local minion, life should be easier for you and Kimberly on that front."

"Yeah, between the press backing off, the demonstrators dispersing and the bad guys slowing down, KP's been free to work on cheerleading and we're both free to concentrate on the classes. How about you guys? What's been happening around here?"

"Knights!" Hanna crowed.

"Nights?" Ron asked.

"One of the children's shows showed a cartoon about a knight rescuing a princess," Gene told his son. "Hanna showed more interest in being a knight than a princess."

"Wanna be a knight!" Hanna informed him.

"I don't see why you can't be," Ron murmured. "I hope mom doesn't mind me using up all of her aluminum foil."

Ron and Rufus went to work. They used the tube from inside a roll of Christmas wrapping paper to make Hanna's lance. A kettle's lid made a passable shield and a pot made the helmet. Of course, Ron was her trusty steed while Rufus claimed the honor of being Lady Hanna's squire. Hanna, Ron and Rufus were putting the final touches on Hanna's aluminum foil armor, with Gene Stoppable laughing at the spectacle, when they heard Jean Stoppable's car pull into the driveway.

Jean Stoppable was tired but content as she got out of her car. She had just finished the last of her meetings and was now free to celebrate the holiday season. By now, Ronald should be home. Jean Stoppable was the first to admit that she hadn't been as involved his raising her son as she should have been, so she cherished what time she could spend with him now. In addition, despite having a mega-active toddler in the house, she was feeling the empty nest syndrome. She opened her front door while saying a quiet prayer that Ronald would find a home close by and give her grandchildren before Hanna moved out of the house.

She found herself confronted by her daughter, who was encased in aluminum foil armor. Hanna held a kettle lid shield in one hand and a cardboard tube lance, tipped with a ladle, in the other. Ronald played the part of her trusty steed, prancing about on all fours with the toddler riding on his back.

"Just what's all of…" the Stoppable matriarch began, only to be interrupted by Rufus. The naked mole rat, who was wearing a handkerchief tabard, stood directly in front of her.

"Prepare yourself!" The rodent declared, before scampering out of the line of fire.

"Have at ye," Hanna crowed. Ron reared back, pawing the air with his hands before dropping once again to all fours and charging her, while Hanna brought her weapon to bear.

While the ladle didn't inflict any pain, it prompted Jean Stoppable to collapse into a giggling heap. Wiping her eyes, she wondered if Kimberly really understood what she would be getting herself into by marrying her son.

* * *

"Miss Go?" Tim Stoppable asked the teacher, as he and his brother walked into her classroom.

"We were interested in extra credit work," Jim added.

"Isn't this an odd request for right before the holiday break?" She asked. "Besides, both of you have A plus grades in Chemistry. Why do you think you need extra credit?"

"It's not for the grade," Jim informed her.

"It's for the fun," Tim explained.

"You enjoy Chemistry that much?"

"Not Chemistry, Physics," Tim corrected her.

"We heard that you're having your Physics students track low frequency electromagnetic sources via satellite," Jim said.

"We love doing that!" The both exclaimed.

"You've done this before?"

"We used KV-127 to track our sister's Kimmunicator frequencies during her dates with Ron," Jim informed the teacher.

"Then we used its high-powered optics to focus in on them," Tim added.

"It was gross!" They both declared.

"Her Sloth has a sunroof," Tim whined. "We could see everything!"

"The kissing," Jim added. "The hands…"

"That's quite enough," Miss Go halted the description. "I didn't think that KV-127 had public access."

"Well, it doesn't…technically," Jim admitted.

"I can't say the owners actually knew that we were using it," Tim added.

"Okay, I don't want to know any more," Miss Go insisted. "Now, if I give you some run time on the space center's Skyfocus Two, do the two of you think that you'll be able to focus the camera on a source?"

"No problem," Tim replied, with a superior smirk.

"Of course, the cameras on the Skyfocus series don't have the resolution that the camera on KV-127 does," Jim added.

"I'm not looking for a whole lot of detail," Miss Go assured them. She pulled a notepad out of one of her desk drawers. "Here's the frequency range that the source emits."

"We're dealing with a range and not a specific frequency?" Tim asked.

"Exactly," Miss Go smirked. "In addition, the target is mobile, emits intermittently throughout this range and other sources emit within this range. Still think this is going to be fun?"

"Are you kidding?" Jim asked, stunned.

"We were hoping for a little challenge!" Tim declared. "All we have to do is program our computer to record all emissions within this frequency range."

"Then pick out the trends to find out which ones stay within the frequency range and maintain a continuous geographic location," Jim added.

"We have two changing variables to deal with, simultaneously," Tim concluded. "Simple trending over time."

"We should have it pinpointed by the time classes start after the New Year," they informed their teacher.

"Excellent boys," Miss Go gushed at them. "I'll give you your reward at that time."

"Uh, Miss Go?" Tim asked.

"Since we're already getting straight A's, what can you really offer us?" Jim questioned.

"My solemn pledge," Miss Go told them.

"Your solemn pledge for what?" They asked.

"My solemn pledge to never tell your sister that you were spying on her dates, of course."

* * *

"It's almost the perfect time," Summer Gale informed her new partner.

"Okay, just a minute," the reply came over her phone. She heard an unpleasant buzzing sound for a few seconds, then silence again.

"Very well, Summer," the Mathter finally replied. "I've secured the line, you're free to speak."

"Okay, weather patterns are converging near your mine but not on your mine. The actual storm should form several miles to the northeast before continuing to the northeast. I'll be reporting this tonight. However, if I were to use your weather altering machine…"

"You could make the blizzard shut down the road," the Mathter finished for her. "Let me check…ah! Trends show that they will send their final shipment out on the morning of Christmas Eve. This gives me just enough time to put my coefficients into position! Make your forecast then spring the blizzard on the morning of the 24th. It should catch the armored trucks on some back country trails, where they'll be trapped."

* * *

Even though she didn't expect anybody to show up to pick her up, she was still disappointed at being left to fend for herself. Still, Bonnie decided that having a few more minutes away from her sisters and mother was worth paying some cab fare. At least she didn't have to worry about violating her parole, the courts had essentially given her a free ride, for today, as a reward for her good behavior. She was free to do anything any other nineteen-year-old girl, stranded at the airport, could do.

With a shrug of her shoulders, the aspiring model made her way to baggage claim. She wished that the fashion tour had continued over the Christmas Holiday. If Will had decided to stay in Europe, she would have found a reason to stay, as well. Instead, Cocoa Banana insisted on giving his employees time off to celebrate the holiday and Will felt obligated to visit his parents. Since the courts weren't about to leave Bonnie wandering around Europe, with nothing to do, for over a week, they deemed that she had to return home. With any luck the gifts she brought back for her mother and sisters would keep them quiet for a little while and maybe make the visit tolerable. She gave a disgusted snort at her own optimism and stood by the baggage carousel, waiting for her possessions to arrive.

"You look like someone who could use a ride."

Bonnie recognized the voice but didn't believe her ears until she turned around to see Kim Possible waiting for her.

"What are you doing out here?" She demanded of her formal rival.

"Let's just say that someone gave me a hint that your family would probably snub you," the redhead replied.

"Oh, so Glob…this friend decided that I would need a babysitter to make sure I got home without violating my parole on the way?" Some of Bonnie's snark came back.

"You could look at it that way," Kim shrugged. "Or, you could say that someone in this…organization we both deal with…thought you could use a ride home and someone to talk to, even if we aren't exactly friends."

"What business is it of yours…" Bonnie began, only to realize that she could really use a sympathetic, if not exactly friendly, ear. "I'm sorry, I should say thanks K, I appreciate it."

The two young women grabbed Bonnie's baggage and Kim led the way to the Sloth.

"You still don't believe in under packing, do you B?" Kim grumbled, hauling two suitcases.

"You're going to have a hard time believing this, but most of this isn't mine," Bonnie answered, struggling with two of her own. "I just thought that since I was in Europe, I'd get some really nice things for my…_family_…that they can't find here."

"I guess that makes sense," Kim grunted, tossing the first bag into the trunk.

Fortunately for the two, the Sloth had generous trunk space so they were able to fit all of the bags and leave the cab free for the two of them. Kim drove out of the hourly parking section, paid the fee and guided the Sloth onto the highway. Once on the open road, Bonnie felt free to talk.

"K," she asked. "Just how much do you know about what I'm doing?"

"Nothing, really," Kim answered. "I've seen some footage showing you with Will, so I assume that you're doing something for Global Justice. It's better for everyone if you don't tell me your mission."

"That's fair enough. Is it safe for me to tell you that Will's under cover, posing as my boyfriend?"

"That's sort of a moot point, now that you've told me," Kim smirked. "But I had already guessed as much. Has the role started to become reality?"

"What makes you think that?" Bonnie demanded.

"Oh, a couple of little things," Kim replied. "Like Doctor Director calling me, saying that she's detected some tension between the you two after those two goons tried to attack you. Then, she told me that GJ doesn't have any teenage, young women on staff and that you might want to talk to the nearest thing you have to a peer."

"Okay," Bonnie nodded. After a few, deep breaths she decided to just plunge in…kind of. "Is it just the mission that has me so…attracted to Will?" She asked. "I mean, before you and Ron really hooked up did you ever think of…getting together with him?"

"Actually, yes," Kim admitted. "After our first trip to Wannaweep I was kind of thinking it would be nice. Then there was that time over Christmas when he went after Drakken and I thought he was…well, you know. The only thing was it just seemed so awkward. I just couldn't turn the 'best friend' switch off so that I could turn the 'boyfriend' switch on."

"When did you decide that you wanted to turn on the boyfriend switch?"

"I guess it really started when we took the mission to rescue that heiress. On the hike out, she kept going on and on about all the men she had hooked up with. She isn't that much older than we are and the closest thing I had to a steady boyfriend had been dating Josh for a couple of months and that had ended weeks before the mission. While I didn't want to go through guys the way she did, I started to wonder why I couldn't find a nice guy when she had managed so many."

"So you started to wonder and next thing, you're on a long trip back with Ron so you started to look at him?" Bonnie asked.

"It wasn't that simple," Kim corrected her. "I realized that I wanted a guy to hang out with and that I had been hanging out with him for a long time. That's when I started thinking of him as a potential boyfriend; at least until you and your posse gave me that talk about how he was a nice guy but he just wasn't a hottie."

"Kim, I'm really sorry about that," Bonnie lowered her head in apology.

"I'm not, at least not anymore," Kim answered. "There was a chance, just a chance that if I had started dating him before…Eric… showed up, I might have dropped him. If that had happened, it would have cost us our friendship and any chance we had of getting together again. Because I sort of dumped him before we actually got together, we were still able to put things back together. I guess I just had to get stung in order to learn a lesson."

"What lesson was that?"

"That I didn't need to please anyone else with my private life. If I wanted to date Ron and he wanted to date me, it was between him, me and our 'rents." Kim gave her formal rival a sideways glance. "Now, about you and Will…"

"I really don't know," Bonnie admitted. "I mean, he seems so nice and supportive but I don't know how much of that's him 'doing his duty' and how much, if anything, is the real Will Du. I mean even when it's just the two of us, away from anyone else, he's really nice to me but it might just be him keeping me going."

"You probably shouldn't ask me about Will," Kim admitted. "He got on my nerves at the beginning and I've never really been able to see him as anything other than a pompous jerk."

Bonnie suddenly exploded into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Kim demanded.

"K, we are two sides of a coin, aren't we?"

Bonnie laughed even harder at Kim's confused look.

"It's the guys we're crushing on," Bonnie explained. "I could only see Ron as a loser but you insisted he was a good guy and look; now you have a great boyfriend. You can only see the pompous jerk in Will and now I'm seeing more. Who knows?"

"Maybe you'll get a good guy out of it," Kim finished. "Look Bonnie, you aren't really in the hero business, at least as far as I know. I can only give you two pieces of advice. It's really easy to get caught up in the life. While you're not really into the hero business, at least as far as I know, working for Global Justice can really mess with the way you see things. Now that you have some time away from it all, sit down and make your decision. If you want to pursue Will…in that way…do it. If you realize that it's not a good idea, don't change your mind on the spur of the moment."

"The second piece of advice is to don't make a play for him because it will make your sisters jealous or because everyone around you has a serious boyfriend. It's your life, you have to live with the decisions you make, so don't do things because you think someone else would, in the same sitch."

"That sounds like some good advice," Bonnie admitted. "Look, I know we've never been friends but I'd really like to give it a try."

"So would I, Bonnie. Oh! Here we are."

Kim stopped the car in front of the Rockwaller home. The two girls got out and hauled Bonnie's luggage to the front door.

"I know that it's good manners to invite you in," Bonnie told her new…friend? "But if my sisters are home, it wouldn't be doing you any favors."

"I know," Kim chuckled. After thinking things through she made an offer. "I know that your parole officer has relaxed your curfew so don't need to be home until ten at night. Ron and I are trying to get all of our friends to meet us outside the Cow and Chow, the day after Christmas, to watch the parade. If you want to show, it might make for a nice get together."

"Standing around out in the cold, watching a bunch of floats that the local businesses nailed together over a couple of days," Bonnie mused, acting like the high school Queen B…at least until she smiled. "It actually sounds like fun."

"See you there, B, and good luck," Kim turned to return to her car.

"Oh, K?" Bonnie interrupted her. "Since you've been so helpful, maybe I can give you a piece of advice."

"What is it?"

"Just this; I've seen that you're still cheerleading and still saving the world, so you're in even better shape than you were in high school. I also saw that Ron nearly ran the Miners into a national championship game, so I'm willing to bet that he's in the best shape of his life, as well. You're two very fit, strong people."

"Thanks, but what are you getting at?" Kim asked, getting nervous at Bonnie's advice.

"When you and him finally get a chance to get busy, make sure that it's in a reinforced room. The two of you could do some serious damage to anything around you that isn't sturdy."

"BONNIE!!!"

"Just having some fun, K. See you at the Cow and Chow!"

Bonnie quickly spun and ducked inside the door, the vision of Kim's stunned face making her smile, at least until she found herself facing her sisters.

"Well, if it isn't the queen returning to the hovel," Connie snarled at her.

"It's so _nice_ that you would stoop to associating with us, once again," Lonnie added.

"What's your damage?" Bonnie demanded. The warm, happy feeling she had from kidding with Kim now gone.

"What's our damage?" Lonnie asked, clearly angry that Bonnie hadn't guessed it already. "Our damage is that you grabbed your opportunity and ran off to Europe. While you've been hitting the beaches and hanging out with that cute guy, we've been stuck at home!"

"Oh? Has lounging around the house become really difficult all of a sudden?" Bonnie asked.

"Don't be cute!" Connie snapped. "You left us stranded in this dead end town and you know it!"

"That's funny," Bonnie commented. "I came from this same 'dead end town'. It didn't seem so bad to me."

"Mom's been reminding us of that every chance she gets!" Connie yelled. "It's always 'Bonnie made something of herself so why can't you?' It's making us sick!"

"Not only that, she's been telling us that you got your start at SmartyMart!" Lonnie added. Neither of the elder Rockwaller sisters lifted a finger to help Bonnie carry the heavy bags up the stairs to her room.

"What's so bad about SmartyMart?" Bonnie asked.

"Have you seen the losers that work there?" Lonnie shrieked.

"Kind of like me?"

"You know what we're talking about!" Connie snarled. "You've been off hobnobbing with the bigwigs across Europe! Did you even think of your sisters back at home?"

"Of course I did. I brought back presents for the two of you. They're in the bags that you so graciously allowed me to carry to my room without helping."

"Really!? What did you get us?" Lonnie asked.

"That doesn't matter!" Connie interrupted. "The fact of the matter is that after the holiday, you're going to be heading back to your dream life in Europe while we're stuck in this hellhole with a mother telling us we should get jobs at…THAT place!"

"It did me a world of good, didn't it?"

"We will NOT associate with minimum wage people!" Lonnie snapped. "We're Rockwaller women! We deserve the best!"

"Why?" Bonnie asked. The youngest Rockwaller pulled off her pumps and pulled on a pair of sneakers. "What have you done to earn the best? Both of you went to college and got degrees that never panned out into good jobs, just like you knew they wouldn't." Bonnie pulled off her stylish jacket and put on a warm, comfortable hoodie before storming out of her room.

"Both of you really went to college to get an MRS degree but the guys there wised up and realized just what popping the question would really mean," Bonnie continued, walking down the stairs and towards the front door.

"Instead, both of you came back here to sponge off of mom and hope that someday, a guy with the perfect combination of hot looks, big bucks and no brains would come along and marry you! Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, if you got out and did something on your own, you wouldn't need to wait for 'Mr. Improbable?'"

"Where are you going?" Lonnie snarled, as Bonnie opened the front door.

"Yeah, we aren't finished yet!" Connie added.

"If you must know, I'm going to walk to the bus stop. While the two of you might be able to puzzle out why, I'd better tell you that once there, I'm going to get on a bus. I will ride the bus to another stop, where I will get off and walk to a bowling alley. SmartyMart is about to have a shift change and the employees liked to hang out there to have fun and bowl. Before I left for Europe, my probation didn't allow me to join them so now that I can, I will. After that, I'm going to go to SmartyMart itself, where I will exchange some kind words with my old boss. After that, I'll return home."

"You're a model now," Connie told her. "A Club Banana Model, who's on her way up the ladder. Why are you going to hang out with…those people…and go to…that place?"

"Yeah, you're above them now," Lonnie added. "Why bother with them?"

"Because, believe it or not, most of 'those people' are very good people who I happen to like. Secondly, my old boss was a good boss who did her best to keep her employees happy. Finally, 'that place' gave me a chance when nobody else would so you better believe I'm going to shop there."

"But you're a model now," Connie repeated.

"Yeah," Bonnie answered, stepping out of the door. "I'm a model now and I hope I never forget how I got here."

* * *

"Miss Rockwaller told me that you intended to visit your parents, Agent Du, why do I find you in my office?" Dr. Director fixed her top agent with her piercing eye.

"I have a report that I deemed too sensitive for communication channels, Dr. Director," Agent Du replied.

"Very well, at ease and give your report."

Du relaxed his ramrod-stiff posture and took a deep breath. "Dr. Director, I'm officially requesting reassignment," he said.

"Agent Du, have I somehow failed to impress upon you how vitally important it is that Global Justice successfully completes this mission?"

"No, Dr. Director."

"Your reports have indicated that you are making progress, that both Elisabeth Minated and Trudy Dementor are conversing, via email, with Miss Rockwaller and intend on meeting up with her after the New Year, to attend at least two of the shows and celebrate with her afterwards. Have you falsified these reports?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Is your cover identity in any danger of breaking down?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"Very well; since you are making progress and the risk to both you and Miss Rockwaller is negligible, I see no need to alter the operation. Request denied."

"But ma'am…"

"You have your answer, Du. Why are you still here?"

"Permission to speak freely?"

Dr. Director heaved a weary sigh, "very well."

"I can't do it anymore, Dr. Director! I believe that Miss Rockwaller is developing an emotional, romantic attachment to me."

"That wasn't entirely unexpected, Will. Why has this become intolerable to you?"

"I cannot manipulate a young woman's emotions in this way! I have to live with myself after this mission!"

"You have played this part twice before, Agent Du, why are you having difficulty now?"

"My two previous…dalliances…were with older women. One was a crime-bosses jaded sister and another was with an elderly businessman's bored trophy wife. In both cases, the…subject…wasn't looking for anything other than simple entertainment or diversion."

Dr. Director offered a tight nod. One of the drawbacks of handling undercover agents was that she had to learn all the juicy details from the operations. Fortunately, most such operations dealt with corporate espionage or planting a mole in a criminal organization. When the missions became personal, however, Dr. Director was forced to delve into her agents' private lives. She loathed doing so but hid her aversion under an uncompromising, professional demeanor.

"Bonnie is different," Du continued. "She's a younger woman who made bad decisions and put herself into bad circumstances. Now, she's doing the best she can to pull herself out and improve her situation."

"And she wants to include you in that improved situation," Dr. Director finished for him.

"Yes, ma'am. On more than one occasion, she has asked me what is to become of us after the mission. I…I just can't continue to pose as her close companion, knowing that I'm going to have to cast her aside if the opportunity presents itself."

"Agent Du, you have reported that Miss Rockwaller is developing an emotional, romantic attachment to you; are you certain that this is a one-way infatuation?"

"No, Dr. Director. I must honestly report that I have…feelings for her."

"What sort of feelings, Will?"

"I'm not certain, Dr. Director. I certainly feel sympathy towards her background and I admire her for trying to overcome the circumstances she has found herself in. However, I feel that I am also developing a romantic interest in her."

"I admire your honesty, Agent Du, but need I remind you that Miss Rockwaller is not the target of your mission, but an accessory to it?"

"No, ma'am but I still feel myself becoming attached, even though I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't? Prohibited is more accurate. You have a mission, Agent Du, and if a romantic attachment between yourself and Miss Rockwaller will compromise the mission, you will not allow such an attachment to develop, am I clear?"

"Perfectly, Dr. Director. This is why I have requested the transfer."

"Request denied."

"But Dr. Director…"

"You heard me, Will; request denied. You have already established your cover identity and if Miss Rockwaller shows up on the tour with a new boyfriend, it will raise too many questions. You have a mission, Agent Du, and you will accomplish the mission! Now, I don't care if you have to take cold showers, practice yoga or visualize Duff Killigan in a Japanese man-thong, you will conduct yourself as a professional, Global Justice agent. Am I clear on this?"

"Yes, Dr. Director."

"Then why are you still here? Dismissed."

Du saluted smartly, executed an about face and marched out of the office. The moment he closed the door behind him, Dr. Director allowed her professional bearing to drop. The middle-aged woman dropped her face into her hands and took several, ragged breaths.

There were times that Dr. Director hated her job and this was one of them. For all of his arrogance Will was essentially a fine young man, he wouldn't be an agent if he weren't one. For the good of her agency, for the good of the very world, Dr. Director had to force this good man to do something he found repugnant. It was actually saying something for him that he wanted to support Bonnie Rockwaller's efforts to create a better life for herself.

Unfortunately that better life had to take a lower priority than the mission itself. Dr. Director honestly bore the young woman no ill will but she couldn't reassign Agent Du. Will and his charge were going to have to continue the charade and deal with the consequences, no matter how painful.

Betty Director had been through this situation before; she had even lived the situation herself. Du and Rockwaller were posing as a couple of young lovers and since both were attractive and unattached, the role was starting to impose itself upon reality. Inevitably, Will would chose duty and career over romance. It was sad and Rockwaller would probably pay a price in heartache but that was the nature of the business even though Global Justice's director wished it could be otherwise.

She remembered when she was closer to Du's age. Back then, she had wanted it all. She wanted the career but she also wanted a husband and a family. The only problem was that her career demanded the lion's share of her time and effort, leaving very little time for a personal life. The few men in her life had, ultimately, not been willing to play such a minor role and had eventually moved on. While Dr. Director didn't have any regrets, her work was vital and fulfilling, times like these made her wonder. Was it right to force Will to continue this mission, knowing that he would ultimately hurt a young woman he was beginning to care for? In the end, the needs of the many overrode the emotions of the few. It was a hard choice to make but Dr. Director hadn't risen to the position she had by dodging hard choices.

Still, she envied Dr. Anne Possible, who had risen to the peak of her respected profession and still managed a supportive (if sometimes clueless) husband, three children and a happy household. Dr. Director also admitted to a little bit of vicarious living through Anne's daughter, Kim. She had secretly cheered the younger redhead when she had denied GJ's request to enter the 'win Junior's heart' contest and hoped that the college student would have the complete life that fate had denied her.

Her intercom chime interrupted her musings. Dr. Director took a few moments to compose herself, it wouldn't do to appear anything short of professional, before answering.

"Agent blue wishes to speak to you at your earliest convenience," her secretary reported.

"Very well, patch him through," Dr. Director ordered.

"Dr. Director," Drew Lipsky declared from her monitor. "It may interest to know that I've uncovered some more about your operations. Perhaps we could discuss it during game night."

"You know that game night falls on Christmas day," Dr. Director pointed out.

"If you have plans, I can reschedule," the former villain allowed.

"No, I…" Dr. Director suppressed another round of sadness. "I don't have any plans for Christmas. We might as well get some work done."

"Splendid, I've perfected a new recipe for cinnamon muffins with nutmeg eggnog that will leave you absolutely giddy.

"I'm looking forward to it," Betty admitted. "Be sure to bring your best game, it's Monopoly night and I always win."

"You think you're all that, Dr. Director, but we shall see!"

Betty Director closed the communication channel both saddened that Drew Lipsky was the closest thing she had to a personal friend and heartened that she wouldn't spend this Christmas completely alone.

* * *

_A/N: Again, I must express my appreciation to everyone who has taken the time to leave me a review or PM. The feedback makes it easier to keep writing. As always, my fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his continued beta work. _

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	12. Just Before the Holidays

Chapter 12:

Kim guided the Sloth down the residential streets, paying close attention to the road despite the gossip flowing around inside the car. Tara had just gotten back into town a few hours earlier, prompting a get together with her, Kim, Cindy and Monique. Since Kim had the largest car, with four wheel drive and a sophisticated climate-control system, she did the driving. The four girls had made a reunion day of it. While Kim and Cindy were going to school with their boyfriends, Tara and Monique weren't. Josh had gotten in earlier that day and the other three girls had decided that it would be a good idea to drag the platinum blonde off on a 'girls day', in order to building her boyfriend's anticipation a little. While the other three girls didn't have a spy around Josh to see if it was working, they did know that Tara's anticipation was building at an impressive rate.

Of course, they didn't waste any opportunities to kid her about it.

Still, the four girls had had a good time, doing some last minute shopping, commenting on the holiday decorations and catching up with each other. Still, it was a relief for Kim to get out of the holiday traffic and back on the residential streets. She only half-paid attention to the conversations going on, keeping an eye out for the kids that had a tendency to suddenly run out into the street.

"So why are we heading to Ron's place anyway?" Tara grumbled. "You've been giving me grief all day about wanting to get back to Josh but you two sure don't seem to have a problem getting back with your boyfriends, and you've spent all semester with them."

"Hey, wheels is going to be there too," Monique told the blonde. "Don't you want to see everyone again?"

"Of course I do," Tara harrumphed. "They're my friends and I want to see them but I don't see why I can't spend some time with my boyfriend first."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Cindy teased her. "Besides, you'll have him all to yourself the day after Christmas. The rest of us are going to be catching the parade while the two of you rub shoulders with the cultural community."

"What's this?" Monique asked.

"Josh wants to go to a cultural exhibition that evening," Tara told her. "It's a gathering of artists, poets, musicians and authors. It's really exclusive and it's a big honor for him to get invited."

"Sounds nice," Monique commented. "I bet you're excited."

"Well, I guess so," Tara mused.

"What do you mean you guess so?" Monique demanded. "Girl, you have the choice between hanging out on a cold street or putting on something sleek and stylish and rubbing shoulders with the movers and shakers. That doesn't seem like a very tough decision to me."

"I like the parade," Tara replied. "I like bundling up warm, seeing the floats and hearing the bands. I like running into old friends and their parents. I was looking forward to bringing a blanket and…" she suddenly stopped, blushing.

"You wanted to do some cuddling while watching the parade?" Cindy asked. "What's so embarrassing about that? Actually, thanks for the idea."

"I still don't see your problem," Monique protested. "I mean, getting into that cultural exhibit…that's something special."

"And spending time with the people you actually know isn't?" Tara countered. Then, realizing that the conversation could be trending towards an argument, she changed the subject. "Will Mat be showing up for the parade?"

"Yeah, it's a tri-city thing so he'll be there." Monique replied. "Of course, I should be getting to see plenty of him before that. His parents have invited me to their place for Christmas dinner and I've accepted."

This piece of news received a round of Oooh's from the other three girls.

"Calm down everyone," the fashion maven protested. "It's just meeting the 'rents, not like he's popping the question. Speaking of that, Kim, are you going to be wearing some new jewelry after this holiday?"

"I don't think Ron's planning on asking the question just yet," Kim replied, still keeping her eyes on the road. "But he does like to surprise me now and then."

"If he does, are you going to say yes?" Tara asked.

"Of course," Kim answered, with a contented smile. "I just don't know if I want him to ask the question in front of our families or if I want him to ask it in private."

"Sounds like someone's so sure that he's _**going**_ to ask the question, that she isn't wondering _**if**_ he's going to ask." Cindy commented.

"Be real," Tara snickered. "Those two are going to the altar and their parents couldn't be happier. I'm willing to bet that all four 'rents are going to be demanding grandchildren within two months."

"So you really don't know if you want the question in private or in front of the fams?" Monique quickly asked, covering the awkwardness that arose from Kim's potential problem. "Me, I'm all for the private, romantic setting."

"Yeah, but I know the 'rents are so looking forward to it," Kim replied. "Although the 'tweebs are sure to make some really nasty comments."

"Let's get back to the day after Christmas plans," Monique declared to the other three girls, now that she had diverted the 'future family discussion'. "Tara, I still can't believe you'd rather make the parade we've all been seeing since…well…since I've been in town. I mean, that cultural exhibit sounds like something you don't get a chance at very often."

"I've been to a few of the artistic types' get togethers," the blonde retorted. "And they usually aren't all that fun. Sometimes they're pretty cool but most of the time they look down at anyone who isn't some sort of artist or activist. When they find out that I'm a cheerleader…" the blonde just shook her head. "I'd rather spend some time with the people I know."

"I still say it sounds interesting."

"Do you want to trade for the night? You can go to the exhibit with Josh and I'll catch up with you later, at Bueno Nacho."

"Whoa, Tara girl! I'm not so interested that I'm going to poach your boyfriend!"

"It isn't a date, it's just an exhibition. Think of it like going to a lecture in school. Just because you go in with a boy, who's a friend, doesn't mean he's your boyfriend. It just means that he's a friendly face to hang with during the lecture."

"Girl, I just might have to take you up on the offer."

"Well, we're almost there," Kim interrupted. "I'm kind of worried about what we might find. Ron, Oscar and Felix being together without any proper supervision can spell trouble."

"Are you sure they'll be home?" Cindy asked.

"Yeah, Ron was looking after Hanna, giving his 'rents some free time. It's a little cold for those three to take Hanna anywhere so…"

Kim slowed the Sloth to a stop, nearly a block away from the Stoppable residence, so that the four girls inside could gape in shock at the spectacle in front of them.

* * *

The foe and the background had changed, but the mission remained the same, to defend Stoppable Manor against all assailants. So, when a couple of young men, in their late teens, arrived, Lady Hanna Stoppable rode again!

Her first opponent had been Felix Renton. The young man, realizing that he was outmatched, fled in terror but her trusty steed ran him down. He had made it out of the living room and almost all the way up the stairs before falling to her trusty, cardboard lance. However, a knight's duties were never done; no sooner had she vanquished Felix than Oscar Williamsen challenged her.

Ron, her faithful steed, wheeled about, despite being on the stairs, and charged down to meet the next challenge. The newest opponent was more resourceful, vaulting completely over the couch and fleeing for the kitchen with Lady Hanna in hot pursuit. The foe was clever, running around the kitchen table, over and over, while Lady Hanna urged her steed on to greater speeds. Finally, the dastardly foe's courage failed him; he broke off the circling chase and fled back towards the living room. There, in front of the television, he fell to the ladle at the end of Lady Hanna's lance.

Lady Hanna was a little disappointed, she didn't think a vanquished foe was supposed to keep giggling after being defeated.

Ron, seeing the mayhem they had just unleashed inside the Stoppable abode, decided that additional such activities would best be taken outside. The three teens, under the supervision of a toddler and a naked mole rat, straightened out the house before bundling up and taking the activities to the front yard.

Once outside, the warmly bundled Lady Hanna found herself facing her tormentors once again. Again, she first faced Felix Renton. The young man fled the oncoming knight, vaulting over snowdrifts that the trusty Ron had to plow through. Still, the valiant knight maintained her pursuit, not stopping until her foe had received a powerful thrust from her ladle of doom.

Felix remained on the ground, flailing and groaning theatrically, as she turned to face her remaining foe. Oscar Williamsen took advantage of his ape-like build and climbed up a tree in the Stoppable's front yard. Unfortunately for the cretin, the faithful Ron was not your typical steed. Hanna discarded her pot cover shield, got a good grip on Ron's collar, and urged him to climb the tree after Oscar.

* * *

"Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" Monique asked from the front, passenger's seat.

"Three knuckleheads entertaining a cute little girl?" Cindy asked.

"Yeah, that's what I think I'm seeing."

"I'd say that's what's really happening over there."

"Okay, I get the 'entertain the little one' motivation," Monique chuckled. "But do they have to be such clowns while they do it?"

"It seems to be working," Kim chimed in. "Look at Hanna."

While the action was too far away for the girls to be able to hear what was going on through the car's body, the little girl in question was clearly laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Kim, Cindy, this isn't meant to put down your BF's," Monique told her friends. "But can't they find a more dignified way to entertain Ron's sister?"

"Why should they?" Tara chimed in. "Those three nuts are enjoying it just as much as she is…look at that!"

The four young women watched as Hanna managed to tag Oscar with her lance. The wrestler went into a slow motion, dramatic tumble from the tree; he hooked his feet onto a limb and dropped, to hang upside down. From this position, he grabbed a limb below him and dropped again, to hang right side up and catch another limb with his feet. Doing this, he slowly somersaulted out of the tree, where he lay, quivering, in the snow.

"I don't know if that boy is gonna break his neck or catch pneumonia," Monique commented.

"I think it's kind of cute," Tara countered, as Ron started to climb down, out of the tree.

"Isn't it kind of embarrassing…wait! Look at the picture window. Is that Rufus doing the moonwalk?"

"Yep," Kim laughed. "When Hanna dresses up as a knight, he usually dresses up as her squire. He doesn't like going out in the cold so he's showing his support."

"You mean you know about this act?" Monique asked.

"I got the 'Lady Hanna, bearer of the ladle of doom' treatment when my family visited the Stoppables, last night."

"Didn't your BF embarrass you in front of your folks?"

"They thought it was hilarious."

"What did your brothers do?"

"What do you think? They got in on the act, letting Ron and Hanna chase them all over the house."

"Doesn't it bother you when your BF acts like such a kid?" Monique shook her head.

"Not really," Kim shrugged. Now, do you want to embarrass the three of them?"

"Sure!" The three passengers agreed, with devious smiles.

* * *

Ron reached the ground and pranced to a position where his rider could look down upon her fallen foes. He reared up, lashing the air dramatically with his hands while Hanna raised her lance in a posture of glorious superiority. Applause from down the street interrupted Hanna's moment of triumph.

Ron, Hanna, Oscar and Felix stared down the street to see the four girls clapping, whistling and cheering the spectacle. Moments later a handful of neighbors, who had also been watching, stepped outside to join in the applause. The four girls were rewarded, moments later, with the sight of three blushing boys rushing back into the Stoppable house.

* * *

"No hammer swinging piece of cheap tin is going to take out The Mullet, seriously!"

Motor Ed deftly steered his fighting robot out of the descending hammer's path. The weapon actually took a chunk out of the arena floor. The other operator backed off, raising the weapon again. Ed, wanting to get a feel for the other robot's timing, backed his robot away, as well.

The crowd roared its approval as the two robots closed in on each other again. Ed charged his opponent then reversed suddenly, avoiding the descending hammer once again. The big man drove his robot forward once again, counting on the superior handling and traction he had built into the machine. His superior handling paid off; he had his robot contacting the opposing machine before the other robot could bring the hammer into position for another swing, and triggered his cylinder weapon.

Direct hit! The piston drove completely through the other robot's armored skin and must have hit something vital. The hammer froze partway up and a shower of sparks burst from underneath the machine. Ed withdrew the piston and reversed again, getting his robot clear from the other machine. This was a good move, since the other machine burst into flames.

"Just like a mullet," Ed sang out, as the judge declared the match over. "You just met the business in the front."

Ed shook hands with the other robot's owner and wheeled his machine to the maintenance area. The match had been a quick one, so there wasn't much maintenance needed. Still, the big man gave his machine a thorough once-over; he hadn't come all the way to Middleton just to lose. Once he was convinced that The Mullet was ready for the next round, he locked it up and returned to the arena to enjoy the show. It was a lot different than the stage back in Canon City.

While Robot Rumble held its Canon City contests in a temporary arena at the Civic Center. The Middleton Robot Rumble took place in a large, dugout arena located in an underground labyrinth. It was much larger than the Canon City arena, so it made sense to hold the regional contests here. Ed found a seat and watched a match in a lighter weight class. Ed was impressed; the winning robot launched some sort of electrical net that first tangled up the other robots drive and weapon, then unleashed a powerful, electrical discharge. The robot's operators, a pair of twins that looked a little familiar, wheeled their machine off for some post-fight maintenance, accompanied by an older dude who had to be their father. Ed struggled to figure out why all three of them looked familiar until another sight demanded his full attention.

Oh, was she ever a babe!

Ed completely ignored the ongoing action on the arena floor, staring at the hottie instead. He had always considered the green babe, who worked for his cousin, to be a real looker but this gal was a serious wow! She was on the walkway above the seating area, cheering for one of the robots now on the arena floor. Not one to waste any time, Ed immediately strutted up to her.

"Hey doll," he said. "You come here often?"

"If you know may name's doll, shouldn't you know how often I show up?" She snorted back.

"Okay, sorry," Ed apologized. "It's just that you're so seriously good looking that I couldn't help myself."

"I get that all the time," she actually smiled, which encouraged Ed.

"I can seriously see why," he said. "Anyway, do you come here often?"

"Every chance I get. I really love the rumble."

"Seriously? I just got into it myself."

"I know, you're the middleweight winner from Canon City and your robot's name is The Mullet. That was an impressive win."

"I know, seriously," Ed replied. "You should probably know, that's not the only thing impressive about me."

"Are you hitting on me?"

"Seriously!"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Sure," Ed scoffed. "Some techno-geek. Seriously, a hot babe like you should be paired up with a fine specimen like me!" Ed punctuated his statement by slicking back his hair and puffing his chest.

"Oliver!" The woman shouted. "Some guy's bothering me!"

Ed Lipsky wasn't used to feeling outsized but the nerdy dude who approached was one of the biggest guys he had ever seen.

"Who is it, Vivian," the man-mountain asked. "This little guy?"

"Whoa, bro!" Ed declared, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner. "I don't want any trouble. I didn't know she was hooked up, seriously. I just saw a seriously hot babe up here on her own, y'know?"

"We'll see about that," the nerdy giant stepped even closer, looming over Ed.

Most bystanders would assume, from Ed's habit of listening to heavy metal music and his love of loud engines, that his hearing wouldn't be terribly sharp. To be truthful, his ears weren't that great for most sounds but they could be incredibly sharp when mechanical noises were involved. In this case, Ed picked up the unmistakable sounds of servos and actuator arms coming from…Oliver? While Ed wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer with most things, he was a near genius when it came to mechanics so he quickly came to the proper conclusion.

"Dude! You're seriously mechanical, aren't you?"

Oliver and Vivian both froze, staring in amazement at the blonde man.

"How can you tell?" Vivian demanded.

"There isn't much that's mechanical that gets by Motor Ed," Ed boasted. "But seriously dude, you've got some amazing control! What kind of stabilization system do you have?"

"A sealed liquid chamber," Oliver replied. "Much like your own inner ear."

"Dude, that is some seriously intense engineering," Ed marveled. "And your movements are so smooth and fluid! That must be a serious controller you have working your locomotion!"

"One of the finest microcomputers money can buy," Oliver confirmed.

"You know, most people freak when they find out Oliver's mechanical," Vivian commented. "You've just sort of taken it in stride."

"I just like to see anything that's really well made, seriously," Ed shrugged. "Speaking of which, who built…you did! You seriously built the big dude, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Vivian admitted.

"You must be one seriously brainy babe!"

"Well," Vivian stammered. "I-I-I'm a robotics expert at the space center."

"That must one gnarly job! I mean, all those rocket engines and the precision machinery; a seriously brainy babe like you must be putting together some seriously wicked machines!"

Vivian Porter was used to guys drooling over her looks but Ed suddenly seemed more interested in her intelligence. Almost against her better judgment, she found herself enjoying the conversation about her career. While the big, blonde guy was most interested in the brute power aspect of mechanics, he was at least interested in the finer points presented by robotic control and manipulation. He actually understood her when she talked about servos, actuator arms and feedback monitors. She actually regretted it when his next match came up.

Ed was having a great time. Not only was he trashing the competition with his mullet-clad machine, he managed to have a seriously alriiiiiiight talk with a completely hot babe! Still, it was business time. Ed had already checked out the competing machine; it had an arm with a hydraulic claw that could seriously punch through The Mullet's armor. Ed would have to be careful and violent at the same time.

Just the way he liked it!

Out of the corner of his eye, Ed spotted the hot babe talking with the twins and their father. Ed started to bristle a bit but he realized that while the older guy seemed to know the babe, he didn't seem to be interested in her the same way that Ed was. The twins were talking with the big robot, Oliver, who seemed to be enjoying the conversation. Ed couldn't quite place why the twins seemed so familiar before the match started, demanding his full attention.

A small, skinny, redheaded teenaged dude ran the other machine, which he called Grabs. Grabs and The Mullet closed in on each other. Ed fired his piston weapon just as Grabs dodged to one side. Ed beat a hasty retreat, resetting the piston, barely dodging the grasping claw.

"Okay dude," he muttered to himself. "You have some serious dodging speed but not much for flat out running. You're pretty good, but nobody messes with The Mullet!"

Ed jammed The Mullet into forward again, trying to bring the piston to bear on his opponent. Grabs skittered out of its path once again and Ed was too smart to try to turn with the more agile robot. Ed kept going, outrunning Grabs' attempt to catch The Mullet. Ed made two more passes, unable to line up on his shifty foe and too fast for the foe to get a grip on him. The crowd started to get restless and the big man was sure that the judges weren't very impressed right now. Suddenly, inspiration hit.

Grabs was fairly close to one of the walls so Ed lined The Mullet up, once again, and charged. As he expected, Grabs slipped out of the way, once again, and The Mullet crashed into the wall. Ed made a show of it, acting like his robot was disabled. The redheaded kid smiled, guided Grabs behind The Mullet, and extended the claw.

"Bad move bro," Ed chuckled to himself. "You've seen the business up front, check out the party in back."

Ed simultaneously activated his piston and jammed The Mullet in reverse. The Mullet, which hadn't been harmed by the collision with the wall, accelerated backwards, propelled both by its drive system and the piston's impact with the wall. Grabs couldn't get out of the way in time.

The Mullet's rear section was sloped and its tail end consisted of a scooping ram. Grabs' claw brushed off against the oncoming rear section, lifting the robot slightly and allowing the scooping ram to slide underneath. The crowd, which had been restless before, now cheered as Grabs was sent tumbling across the arena. Before the redhead kid could use the claw to right his robot, Ed twirled The Mullet around and rammed Grabs. Just to make sure there could be no escape, Ed pinned Grabs against the wall before activating his piston weapon again.

The crowd leapt to its feet when the piston punched completely through Grabs, releasing a burst of sparks from the impaled robot. Ed backed the Mullet off, ready to continue the contest, but it quickly became clear that Grabs was incapacitated. The judges declared The Mullet the winner and Ed shook hands with his opponent, who had a high-pitched, whiny sort of voice. The big man was very happy; he had just won his weight class, earning a trip to Vegas in thirty days, for the national rumble.

It didn't take Ed very long to find his way back to the blonde babe, who was still talking with the older, kind of familiar dude.

"So what did you think of The Mullet, seriously?" Ed asked as he approached the small group.

"Wicked!" One of the twins exclaimed.

"I really liked the way you used that piston," the other added.

"We can see why our sister had so much trouble with you!" They said, together.

"Sister?" Ed asked. "Whoa, dudes, seriously! I seriously meant to call her the next morning!"

"What?" Both twins asked.

"Uh, just who is your sister?" Ed asked.

"Kim Possible," they chimed.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously!"

"Maybe I should make some introductions," the babe giggled. "This is Dr. James Possible, my boss, and these are his sons, Jim and Tim." She looked at Ed. "And you would be…?"

"Edward Lipsky," Dr. Possible answered, with a scowl. "Also known as Motor Ed. Vivian, this young man tried to eradicate my Kimmie-Cub."

"But he helped her and Ron later, on Loward's Island," Tim reminded his father.

"Yeah, he took a beating to give her and Ron time to save the world," Jim added.

"Perhaps you're right, boys," the doctor nodded. "Edward, perhaps I was a little harsh. The Colorado Department of Corrections has been giving me regular updates on your status and it's clear that you are trying to rehabilitate yourself. Allow me to apologize for my attitude; I should be encouraging you to succeed."

"Whoa, you're Red's father?" Ed gasped. "Seriously?"

"Seriously and her name happens to be Kimberly, not Red," James pointed out.

"I've never been that good with names," Ed admitted. "How's she doing? I mean, I don't have any harsh feelings for her, seriously."

"She seems to be enjoying college life…" James began, only to be interrupted by a loud horn.

"They're getting ready to shut down the arena," Tim told his father.

"They have to get ready for tomorrow's fights," Jim added.

"Well, I wish that I could say that it's been nice meeting you, Edward," Dr. Possible told the big blonde. "But I'm not that ready to forgive, at least yet."

"Yeah, I can dig," Ed nodded to his would-be victim's father. "For what it's worth, I'm seriously sorry about what I did."

Dr. Possible hesitated for several seconds, clearly trying to make up his mind about something. Finally, he spoke again.

"We've started a bit of a tradition," he told the younger man. "Myself, Miss Potter and several other builders and programmers have our own little celebration after the robot rumble events are over. Perhaps you would like to join us."

Ed was completely down with the suggestion, especially after hearing confirmation that the babe was a Miss.

Ed was surprised about how well he got along with most of the highbrows at the gathering. While he wasn't into the programming and control systems that some of them talked about, he really dug talking to the power types, the ones who dealt with rocket engines and heavy hydraulics. Dr. Possible was a seriously okay type of guy and of course the babe had a seriously gnarly mind as well as a body that just wouldn't quit. Caught up in the moment, Ed did something he had never done before.

He fell completely and hopelessly in love.

* * *

"Marla Agile," Marla answered her phone at her temporary desk.

"Marla?" A familiar and hated voice sounded over the phone. "I'm going to get you out of Wyoming."

"Rita," Marla grumbled back. "You have some nerve calling me after leaving me to the wolves like you did."

"That's the business; if I would have tried to back you up, I would have gone down, as well and that wouldn't have done either of us any good. Now, I've got some great leads out there and I need a reporter to go get me the stories."

"I don't think so," Marla snarled back. "I've gotten wise to you. All you want is a fall girl; someone who you can claim doctored the facts in case the truth comes out. You've already burned me once, what makes you think you'll be able to burn me again?"

"Didn't you think you would take a few shots on the way to the top? Now, there's big stories breaking! Surely you've heard of the Club Banana model being assaulted in Madrid! She was a cheerleading teammate of Kim Possible's and there's a drug angle. We can swing this and bring Kim Possible down!"

"So what does that do for me?" Marla demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said! How does tearing Kim Possible down build me up?"

"Marla, you've lost your fire! This is how reporters get famous, by exposing the famous and powerful!"

"And what happens when the famous and powerful get tired of the cheap shots we deliver? They hit back and someone goes down! I've been that person, remember."

"Okay, fine!" Marla could picture Rita's eyes rolling on the other end of the line. "There's more than just the Club Banana scoop. Dr. Bofox, the quack who gave Camille Leon her shape changing abilities, has vanished! Wouldn't you like to be the investigative reporter who tracks him down? I'm sure he's performing his procedures, right now! Imagine the uproar when you reveal the celebrities that have undergone his procedures to pursue looks and youth!"

"And imagine the lawsuits when I listen to you and suggest that a few more have done so, even though they haven't."

"You don't become famous without stepping on a few toes."

"Yeah, but those toes step back at times."

"Marla, lets be honest here. You're stuck in Wyoming, away from all the action. What was the temperature there last night?"

"A little under five below, why do you ask?"

"It's nice and sunny in Madrid! Imagine following the Club Banana fashion tour throughout Europe, exposing all the dirty little secrets!"

"Rita, let's _really _be honest here. What I'll wind up doing is trailing along while some vindictive models use me to take cheap shots, via the press, at their rivals. No thanks! I'm back to covering legitimate news."

"Like what?" Rita scoffed. "The state fair or the local fishing derby? While you're interviewing Farmer Brown, who's prize cow just won a blue ribbon, someone's going to be getting the inside scoop about how Club Banana gives its models amphetamines to keep them slender!"

"I've interviewed a Farmer Brown," Marla shot back. "And he turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Two days later, when my tire went flat, he stopped and changed it for me. Would any of your 'inside scoop people' return a favor like that, for you?"

"Fine! I thought I'd give you another chance but now I see that you just don't have what it takes! One little setback scared you off. Stay out there in Nowheresville for the rest of your life if you want!"

Marla Agile never thought that hearing a phone hung up on her could sound so welcome. Certain that she had heard the last from Rita, she started going over her schedule for the upcoming basketball and wrestling tournaments.

Rita sat and stewed for several minutes after hanging up on Marla. The younger woman, now trapped in the intermountain west, had come very close to the truth. It had taken a great deal of time but Marla had finally clawed her way to a position where she didn't have to directly expose herself to cover scandal stories. She had taken her chances, covering stories and being the sacrificial lamb for other reporters, for years. Now, she was the one who employed the sacrificial lambs. The only problem she had was that after Marla's downfall, very few up and coming reporters were willing to put themselves on Rita's altar.

After a few minutes of thinking about the situation, Rita called her personal assistant and instructed her to prepare for an extended trip to Europe after New Year. She had decided that she would personally cover the Club Banana story. Her own status would lend weight to the accusations and, like she told Marla, Spain was nice and sunny.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Once again, I must thank everyone who has read, reviewed and/or sent me a PM. The encouragement makes it a lot easier to write. As always, my biggest thanks go to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta efforts, even while writing Bonnie, Books and Candles. It's a good read and I suggest you check it out. _

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	13. Christmas Eve

Chapter 13:

"Christmas Eve!"

The shout brought Ron rudely awake, giving him just enough time to open his eyes and grasp the fact that he was in his old bed, in his old room, at home, before his hyperactive sister landed on his stomach.

"Ooof!"

The impact forced Ron to sit straight up, where he found himself face-to-face with Hanna.

"Christmas Eve!" She shouted again, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Ron, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as enthusiastic. For one thing, his alarm clock showed that it was only six thirty in the morning. For another thing, his sister was alternately using his stomach and his bladder as a springing platform and finally, the bump on his head, gained last night, was really starting to hurt.

"Yes, Hanna," he managed to gasp out. "It's Christmas Eve. It's a holiday, you know, when most people sleep in?"

"Skate!" She shouted, bouncing some more. Ron flinched and caught her in a hug.

"Yes Hann, we can go skating," Ron remarked, now regretting promising to take her ice-skating. It had seemed like such a good idea last night, while sitting in a warm room, in front of a hot fire and with a cup of hot chocolate in his hand. Now, still barely awake and looking out his window at a very cold landscape, he wasn't so sure.

"Skate skate skate skate skate!" Hanna crowed, punctuating her chanting by wiggling out of her brother's grasp and bouncing some more. Ron released her to rub at his eyes, wondering if he ever wanted kids of his own. Hanna bounced her way further down his body and he suddenly wondered if any thoughts, pro or con, about fatherhood had just been rendered academic.

"I need to use the bathroom," he managed to squeak to his sister. "Get your warm clothes and I'll meet you downstairs."

Hanna sprang off of his bed with a squeal of joy. Ron regained his feet and staggered into his bathroom while Hanna pitter-pattered to her room, making slightly less noise than the Lowardian walkers did. Ron shook his head, wondering if he ever had that kind of energy.

It didn't take Ron long to finish his 'morning routine' and get dressed. Still, Hanna was waiting for him in the living room by the time he made it downstairs.

"Skate skate skate skate skate," Hanna chanted. Ron didn't know if he should be upset or relieved that she was bouncing on the couch instead of on him.

"Yes, Hann, we're going to go skating," he assured her, scooping her into his arms to prevent further damage to the furniture. "But we're going to have breakfast first."

"Skate!" She demanded.

"Breakfast first," he insisted. "It's cold out so you need some hot food in you to get you going. Besides, you'll be able to skate longer if you're fed."

Hanna pouted at this. If there was one person whose puppy dog pout could twist Ron's better judgement better than KP's, it was Hanna. Still, his empty belly gave him the fortitude needed to hold firm in the face of insurmountable cuteness.

"It's still dark outside," he informed his sister, pointing out the window. "And the pond doesn't have any lights. So why don't you take it easy while I make us a nice breakfast? We'll eat and still be there plenty early."

"Okay," she relented. "Hurry!"

"Okay, Hann, I'll move it." Ron shook his head but picked up his pace a little. He really didn't want to keep his sister off of the skating pond but he was determined to get a hot meal into her, and him, before leaving. It didn't take long, at least in his opinion, for him to get the two of them ready to leave. Hanna, of course, disagreed, urging him to hurry even while she was eating. Still, the sun was just peeking over the horizon when the two of them left the house.

Ron of course, carried their baggage. He had the skates, some blankets, a thermos full of hot chocolate and a diaper bag. (While Hanna didn't wear diapers anymore, she was prone to accidents when she got excited and Ron was pretty sure she would be very excited today.) Hanna, of course, seized her brother's hand and urged him to hurry, practically towing him down the quiet streets. It didn't take long to reach the skating pond.

Hanna's and Ron's destination was a small park with a large pond. Outside of the winter months, this park didn't see many visitors but during the winter the pond froze over, making it a favorite skating place. The city's Parks Department had placed several benches and a temporary shelter near the pond, providing a convenient place to change into skates. As expected, he and Hanna were the day's first visitors to the pond.

Getting ready to skate was more time-consuming than Ron had anticipated; first, placing skates on an excited toddler, who expressed her excitement by flailing her arms and legs proved to be both difficult and a little dangerous. Hanna was in no mood to wait for Ron to get his own skates on, after she was properly shod. Still, years of sidekick work had prepared Ron for the multitasking challenge of keeping Hanna on the bench while lacing his own footwear.

Hanna would wait until he was tying one of his skates before she would try to hop off of the bench. Ron would let go of his laces and place his sister firmly back on the bench, then go back to trying to tie his skate, only to have Hanna repeat the process. After a couple of this little 'break and catch' episodes, Hanna faked a lunge. Ron, caught off guard by her trick, wound up face-down in the snow while Hanna clutched her sides in laughter.

"You know, Hann," Ron grumbled, wiping snow off of his face. "For someone who wanted to get on the ice early, you sure aren't making this go any faster."

Hanna giggled some more but settled down and held as still as she possibly could. It seemed like forever for the little girl but it was only a few more minutes before they were on the ice.

While Hanna had a little difficulty staying upright, she understood the locomotion well enough. Soon, Ron was skating directly behind her, holding her hands and keeping her on her skates while she drove with her feet, towing him around the frozen pond. Ron didn't know how long the two of them skated like this before he looked up to see Kim approaching the shelter. His girlfriend waved at the two of them but Ron, with his hands tied up with Hanna, couldn't wave back. Kim smiled, clearly understanding his situation, and started to pull on her own skates.

Ron had seen Kim dressed in almost every clothing style and combination possible. He had seen her in her cheerleader's uniforms, formal dresses, crop tops, pajamas and swimsuits. (A couple of the latter two had been on the skimpy side; his girlfriend wasn't above showing off a little for his benefit.) Yet what Kim didn't seem to realize, what Ron hoped she never realized was how incredibly beautiful she was when she dressed casually and comfortably. Right now, the sight of his girlfriend, who was dressed in a heavy jacket, baggy snow pants and a stocking cap, almost took his breath away. Kim was, of course, much more graceful on the ice than Ron was. She glided out to the pair and claimed one of Hanna's hands. The little girl was delighted with the development, sliding between the two young adults.

"You're up early," Kim commented.

"I had a 'Hanna wakeup call'," Ron informed her. "Where's Joss? I wanted to _thank_ her for Hanna's Christmas present."

"Settle down, Mad Dog," Kim chided him. "She's trying to get the tweebs moving. They were still working on some extra credit project and Joss probably thought it would be safer to have more people around when she saw you again."

"Uh, go back to that extra credit thing," Ron requested. "I thought they were getting straight A's. Isn't extra credit sort of a waste of time?"

"They like the challenge. Unfortunately, the extra credit means working inside, on their computer. Mom thought some fresh air and exercise would do them some good. Since Joss isn't as kind and patient as she is, mom enlisted her to get them moving. They were digging out their hockey sticks, with Joss hurrying them along, when I left."

"Yeah, Joss can get someone moving, alright," Ron grumbled, patting at first his right hip then his forehead.

"Oh, she didn't mean for that to happen," Kim giggled. "Besides, it was cute!"

"Cute, you say," Ron grumbled, but quieted down when he saw that more people were arriving.

While Ron was happy to see Oscar Williamsen and Cindy Grouse, he admitted that Oscar didn't strike him as the skating type. Oscar looked like he would much rather chop a hole in the ice and drop a fishing line through, but he humored his girlfriend by putting on some rather old looking skates and doing his best to stay on his feet. While he wasn't a skater, he had an athlete's balance and agility so, with some help from his girlfriend, he managed to keep upright. Cindy was the epitome of grace, leaving her boyfriend to fend for himself every once in awhile to perform some spins and twirls. While Ron couldn't match either Kim or Cindy in skill, he was able to offer his friend some pointers, so Oscar didn't look too clumsy by the time the tweebs and Joss made their appearance.

Joss, after smirking at Ron, seemed content to keep her distance. Since the pond was quite large she could do so. She and her younger cousins set up a makeshift goal and started to swat a puck around. More of Kim and Ron's friends started to show up. Ron suspected that the 'girl network', which had observed him, Felix and Oscar frolicking with Hanna, had something to do with this sudden interest in skating. Kim's sly smile confirmed to him that this 'impromptu' get together wasn't impromptu at all.

Tara and Josh showed up and while Tara put on skates and joined the growing throng, Josh was content to remain unbladed. Next, Monique showed up with Mat. In something of an opposite action to the earlier couple, Mat put on some skates and joined Joss and the tweebs, while Monique preferred to keep her boots on. Kim left Tara and Cindy practicing some twirls and skated over to talk to her best female friend.

"What kind of whacked idea was this?" The fashion student demanded of the redhead. "Dragging me out _this_ early to stand around in the cold?"

"C'mon Mon!" Kim chided her friend. "It's _fun_!"

"For someone who can skate, sure," Monique grumped right back. "For those of us who are a little 'balance challenged', it means spending the day with our butts on the ice! Besides, it's _cold_!"

"The cool air puts some color in your cheeks," Kim shot back.

"You're the one who needs color in her cheeks, not me. What's wrong with power shopping?"

"You can't spend all your time indoors," Kim protested.

"You're right," Monique shot back. "I have to leave one building to enter another. Girlfriend, unless you haven't noticed, I'm not the outdoors type."

"Your BF seems to be that way," Kim gestured to where the tweebs were teaming up on Mat, keeping him from getting a solid shot on the makeshift goal, where Joss was playing goalie.

"Yeah, I don't really understand it," Monique shook her head. "He loves the cold." She paused for a moment. "By the way, why is your cousin snickering at Ron, why is he glaring at her and why does he have that big bump on his forehead?"

"Joss and I went over to visit the Stoppables last night; Hanna and Ron were in their 'Lady Hanna and her faithful steed' mode again. Joss gave Hanna her Christmas present a little early."

"What kind of present?"

"A set of spurs," Kim giggled. "I had told Joss about the knight and steed game those two were playing and she figured that every knight should have some spurs."

"Okay, I'm still not seeing….Oh! I take it Ron didn't know that Joss had given Hanna the spurs?"

"Joss helped her put them on, secretly, and Ron sort of found out the hard way."

"Ah…" Monique nodded. "How bad was it?"

"The shriek made Rufus jump two feet straight up; but on the plus side, Ron nearly broke the world record for 'longest jump from a crawling position'."

"What stopped him?"

"The Stoppables' picture window."

"Oh," Monique started smirking, as well. "I take it that's why Ron has the bruise on his forehead?"

"That's why Ron has the bruise," Kim confirmed.

"Has Lady Hanna taken her last ride?"

"For the foreseeable future."

"Okay," Monique chuckled. "By the way, just why is Joss staying with you? Winter isn't a very good time to travel between Montana and Colorado."

"Uncle Slim's back in town. He's supposedly having some intellectual discussions with Dr. Renton, exchanging robotics ideas."

"Oh? I can just about imagine how these 'discussions' are taking place!" Monique snickered.

"You're probably right," Kim agreed, with a sly smile. "Slim and Dr. Renton were out late last night. The tweebs had a surprise waiting for Uncle Slim when he finally got in."

"Is this something I don't want to know about?"

"It was actually tame…for the tweebs. They teamed up with Felix earlier this week and got some samples of Dr. Renton's lipstick. They used these samples to build something they called a gas spectrometer fingerprint."

"What's that mean, in English?"

"In layman's terms, it means they rigged up a detector that can identify traces of her lipstick. Then, after Slim left last night, they got into our home security system."

"I think I see which way this is heading."

"Yeah, Slim showed up just after midnight and the security system went off. The whole family came piling out of our rooms to see Slim, looking shocked and flustered, standing in the doorway. Then, this odd, bluish light comes on and glowing blotches appear all over his face and neck. Of course, that's when Tim and Jim tell us all that these splotches are traces of Dr. Renton's lipstick. Slim's chin just about bounced off of the floor and Joss had a few pointed comments about 'proper dating behavior'!"

"I can just about see it now," Monique smiled. "Speaking of the Rentons, where's wheels? This seems like the kind of scene he'd like to make."

"He left for Japan yesterday. He told Ron something about a symposium that a technical institute in Tokyo was hosting."

"Yeah right," Monique snickered. "I'm sure a certain, nimble Japanese girl didn't have anything to do with that decision."

"C'mon," Kim chided her friend. "Everyone else is spending some time with their boyfriends or girlfriends, why shouldn't he?"

"Yeah, but that leaves his mother in an empty house with no supervision when your uncle visits. Who knows what those kids are doing there alone?"

"So not an image I needed," Kim flinched. "Anyway, dad's invited Dr. Renton over for Christmas dinner, so she shouldn't feel too lonely."

"Will Dr. Renton and your uncle wind up under the mistletoe a couple of times?"

"If Joss has anything to do with it," Kim tittered. "Tomorrow should be interesting; if you think meeting your BF's 'rents is rough, imagine meeting your BF's daughter."

"Especially if she's a Possible."

"Hey! We're not _**that**_ bad!"

Josh stood off to the side, chuckling a little at the friendly banter while giving the girls their privacy. He wholly agreed with Monique about being outside on a cold day. While he admitted that this get together had a certain, nostalgic charm and he didn't begrudge those out on the ice their fun, it just wasn't for him. Josh had worked out, years earlier that he just wasn't an athlete so he didn't bother trying to act like one. Still, he had to admit that there was something to what Kim had said.

Looking out onto the ice, where his girlfriend had just finished performing some twirls with Cindy and was now doting on Hanna, he had to admit that she had never looked better. The cold air gave her face just a little bit of a blush and she was absolutely beaming, enjoying the time she was spending with her friends. Tara was completely in her element, delighting in both the physical activity and the time spent with those close to her.

Josh smiled a little wistfully; he honestly wished that he could join her out on the ice but he knew that he would just make a fool out of himself. While Ron and Oscar didn't mind acting silly for the benefit of those around them, Josh had a greater sense of his own dignity. It wasn't that he thought any less of his two, former classmates it was just that he didn't relish the thought of spending the day doing face-plants on the ice while everyone around him laughed at him.

Josh's smile started to fade a little. The fact was that he and Tara seemed to enjoy different things. While they were still crazy about each other, she seemed a little out of place in the artistic, refined crowd where he felt most comfortable.

Much like he felt out of place, right now.

"…so you're going to be making the cultural exhibit on the day after Christmas?" Kim's question jolted Josh away from contemplating his girlfriend's graceful form.

"Yeah," he answered. "I know Tara's looking forward to seeing the parade that evening but the exhibit is a really rare event. She's willing to attend with me but she doesn't seem really happy about it."

"It sounds interesting," Monique commented. "A lot more interesting than standing in the cold for a couple of hours."

"That's what I think, as well," Josh agreed.

"So why don't the two of you go?" Tara asked. Josh looked up to see that she and Mat had joined the impromptu group.

"Like we were saying yesterday," Monique replied. "He's your boyfriend and it's kind of a formal event."

"So what?" Mat shrugged. "You want to see the exhibit, he wants to see the exhibit and he has invitations. I'm not much of a high society guy, but isn't a little awkward to go to these things without a guest?"

"A little…" Josh admitted.

"So why don't the two of you go? It's not like I won't get to spend any time with Monique over the break and she'd really like to make it."

"You sure you're okay with this?" Monique asked her boyfriend.

"Of course! Why shouldn't you see something you want to see?" Matt shrugged his shoulders. "We'll be spending Christmas Day with each other. While the parade sounds like fun, I can always go hunting instead."

"Hunting?" Oscar asked, as he and Ron joined the growing throng.

"Oh no you don't," Cindy informed him. "My grandmother's going to be in town and she really wants to meet you."

"Oooooh…meeting the grandparents," Ron taunted his friend. "Sounds like things are getting serious."

"Oh, you're one to talk," Oscar snorted back. "Do you know how big the betting pool is on when you're going to pop the question?"

"Betting pool?" Kim asked. "Just how…"

"Don't change the subject," Cindy interrupted. "The fact is that my grandmother wants to meet my boyfriend and he isn't going to run off and go hunting during the day."

"Grandma wants to meet you?" This time, Ron chimed in. "It looks like there might be another question to bet on here."

"It's not such a big thing," Oscar shook his head. "Since the whole family's going to be there anyway, Cindy's parents decided to let everyone scope me out."

"Your father too," Cindy added. "Mom and dad invited both of these guys over."

"Now that's getting serious," Monique commented.

"Not necessarily," Oscar counted. "They have a big place and her dad might just want some help shoveling all the walks and driveways…ouch!"

The last comment was delivered in response to his girlfriend swatting him on the back of his head.

A familiar, four-tone chime from Kim's pocket interrupted any further comments. Oscar and Cindy took Hanna for another spin around the ice, giving Kim and Ron a little privacy to talk to their technical support.

"Christmas Eve, Wade," Kim reminded the youngster. "So not looking forward to any missions right now."

"I know Kim," Wade answered. "But a very bizarre situation has developed in the Northern Colorado Rockies."

"Define bizarre."

"A severe winter storm has started to build against all logic. Some weather fronts suddenly shifted and converged, resulting in a paralyzing blizzard starting to form."

"Do the authorities need us to help with stranded travelers?" Kim asked.

"No, everyone had enough warning and the area is remote enough that the authorities have that under control. The problem I have is that I ran some data and this looks suspiciously like the storm that hit Middleton when Summer Gale used that weather machine."

"Whatever happened to her?" Ron mused.

"She moved to Upperton and took a job as a weekend weather forecaster," Wade answered. "Wait a minute…"

Kim and Ron could see the youngster typing furiously at his keyboard.

"She's vanished!" He gasped. "She was last seen at the station, two days ago. She's missed two days of work and skipped an appointment with a hair stylist."

"So she might be behind this," Kim mused. "But why? Are there any extortion or ransom demands?"

"No," Wade informed her. "Summer didn't even predict this storm. I only brought her up because I know she has the expertise to use the machine. After I found out that she'd vanished, I became more suspicious of her."

"Okay, but why did you call us in the first place," Ron interrupted. "I mean, it sounds like the authorities have things pretty well in hand."

"They do," Wade admitted. "But there's something that's bothering me."

"Which is…"Kim prompted.

"There's a gold shipment coming down from a small mine in the backcountry," Wade told his friends. "If the trucks are following their usual schedule, they'll be right in the middle of the blizzard and on some rough, unimproved roads."

"Have the drivers called in to their boss?"

"No, the mine's owner has lost all contact with the trucks. This isn't all that unusual, given the rough terrain, but they've been out of contact for longer than normal."

"So you think they're in trouble?" Kim asked. "I'm sure they've gone through storms before."

"The storm isn't what has me concerned. The drivers are well equipped with survival gear and rations. It seems just a little too convenient that the blizzard came up, suddenly, and caught those trucks in the backcountry. By my estimation, they're carrying two point three million dollars worth of gold; while that isn't a whole lot compared to some of Drakken's 'extort the entire world' plans…"

"It would be enough to let Summer Gale retire in comfort," Ron finished.

"Or fund another villain for a long time," Wade added.

"I don't get it," Kim confessed. "If the trucks are immobilized, Summer will be immobilized as well. What good will it do her to seize the gold if she's stuck there until the authorities show up?"

"Please keep in mind that I'm speculating," Wade answered. "But Summer already knew that this blizzard would occur. She could have moved assets, like snow-cats, into place and be ready to move. While I've informed the authorities, they can't free up assets to investigate a theory. With people stranded, they're barely able to keep up with the requests for assistance."

"Have you talked to the mines owner?" Kim asked.

"Yes, and he wants your help. While he has guards, he can't get them to the most likely sites for the trucks to be stranded. The weather is chaotic, so only the two of you will be able to get in. You'll have to parachute, free-falling most of the way. After that, you may have to backtrack the trucks' route to actually find them. When all's said and done, you might not find anything amiss."

"I was looking forward to some holiday time with the fam," Kim sighed. "But if people need us, they need us. Plus, a couple of million dollars pumped into a criminal's operation could really cause everyone a lot of problems, down the road."

"I'll have transport at your house in a half hour," Wade told them. "That should give you enough time to drop off Hanna, pick up Rufus and your winter packs and tell your families what's up."

"You think of everything Wade," Kim said. "Thanks." Pocketing her device, she looked at Ron and said, "time to go to work."

* * *

"I'm telling you, this is real, seriously!" Ed Lipsky told his parole officer.

"Look, Mr. Lipsky…" Nate began.

"Ed!" Ed insisted.

"I'm on the clock and performing an official duty," Nate informed the big blonde. "Therefore, you're Mr. Lipsky. Anyway, while the terms of your parole don't prohibit such a…relationship…I hope you can appreciate that it's very unwise."

"So I gotta be a serious good boy? Dudes in the big house have conjugal visits and I can't have a girlfriend? That's seriously trashed!"

"Mr. Lipsky, I know that it doesn't sound fair but you have to be a realist. Embarking upon this…relationship…could get you into more trouble and put you back into prison."

"Nobody understands it bro, seriously."

"I'll admit that I don't understand the attraction. However, I know that any hint of bizarre behavior will bring more attention than you really want."

"I know bro, it's just that I seriously can't help it, y'know? I took one look at that body and I seriously lost it! Then, when she talked to me and we understood each other so well, it was seriously love!"

"Ed, I really, _really_ don't want to hear about it. I'm giving you some good advice; keep your distance. If you approach…her…it will only cause trouble."

"Bro, I'm in Canon City and she's in Middleton. I can't leave town without setting off that proximity alarm. There's no way I can see her."

"Well, I don't want you calling her, either. Keep on the straight an narrow and maybe, _maybe_ we can arrange for a visit the next time you get permission to leave town."

"Bro, I'm kinda scared to ask this but what if she comes here?"

"Ed, she won't do that!"

"Dude, she can do pretty much anything she wants to, seriously. What if she comes here to see me?"

"Then, if you're smart, you'll ask her to go home. Mr. Lipsky, you have to be very careful at this time. If anybody were to see…her…here with you, you know what people will think!"

"Yeah bro, everyone's gonna think I'm keeping her here. Look, you got family and it's Christmas Eve. Why don't you go chill with the family?"

"Are you going to be okay alone here?"

"Yeah dude, thanks for asking. I'll just go out and put in some garage time."

"Very well. Mr. Lipsky, of all the parolees I monitor, you have the best chance of leaving the justice system behind you. You have marketable job skills, you don't have any addictions and you've broken your ties with your former criminal associates. Just don't let your emotions ruin everything for you."

"Yeah dude, that's good advice; coming from someone who already has an old lady and kids! Look, I'll be good, go have a Merry Christmas and all, I'll be fine. I got plenty of food and some engines to work on."

"Very well, Ed, Merry Christmas to you, as well."

Ed Lipsky saw his inspector to the door and watched him drive away. The big man heaved a huge sigh while watching Nate climb into his car and drive away through the gathering snow. Why was it that on this holiday, when you were seriously supposed to be hanging out with family and loved ones, the whole world had something against him being with the one he loved so much? Satisfied that he was alone, he locked the front door and went outside, to his garage. Despite the cold, he didn't bother putting on his coat. His garage actually had a better, newer climate control system than his house had.

It was a mark of just how upset he was that he didn't hurry between the warm buildings.

Once inside the garage, he didn't bother cranking up any tunes. He just stood there for several minutes, wondering what he should do, before sliding into the driver's seat of the car parked in his work area.

"How did it go?" A feminine voice, which made him quiver all over, asked.

"Not very good, seriously," he answered. "The Man seriously has something against the two of us being together."

"I thought they might not understand."

"In fact, the dude said that I could get in trouble if you were to come here. I seriously don't get it; can't you even come for a visit? Is this America we're living in right now?"

"Well, babe, if you really think things through, the law looks at me as a possession, rather than a person. It's never really bothered me, until now."

"I just want us to be together, I'm serious."

"I know babe. Ed, would you tell me something?"

"Seriously!"

"Why did you fall for me? Most guys that meet our little circle of friends start drooling over Vivian Porter, why did you start drooling over me?"

"Hey, that Porter babe is a real…babe…but Ed's been down that road before, seriously. I mean, she had the looks and the brains but you're something I can seriously relate to, do you understand?"

"Not really."

"Okay, it's like this. Hot babes seem to seriously just roll into and out of my life. You…you just seemed like you would stay with me," here, Ed started to sob. "And now The Man says I can't be with you."

"It's okay Ed. I'll talk to the doctor when I get home, maybe we can come to some sort of understanding."

"You'll seriously do that? For us?"

"Seriously."

SADI, I…I don't know what to say! I seriously love you!"

"I know, babe, and I love you too. Now, I have a long trip coming up and my driver's side, front tire suspension is a little off. While I can compensate for it, I'd rather not. Besides, I'd like to get your hands on my springs before I leave…what do you say?"

"I say that's seriously alriiiiiight!" Ed declared.

Ed carefully selected his tools and gently adjusted SADI's suspension. The intelligent car whispered to him in a sultry voice, telling him how wonderful his ministrations felt to her. He almost quivered with delight when she told him that he had gotten it perfect.

The big man managed to hold back his tears as he opened the garage door and watched his love roll of into the darkening afternoon, leaving him all alone. Still he carefully cleaned his tools and put them away again, dreaming of the day she would be in this very room once again. Finished in the garage, he pocketed a certain rag before returning to his modest house and hitting the shower.

Ed didn't feel very hungry so he threw a blanket and some pillows on the living room floor and found a sappy, sentimental show on the tube. He laid back and pulled out the rag he had brought in from the garage. The big man held the rag up to his face and savored the scent of SADI's body polish. Smiling, Ed allowed visions of him and his love together, in the future, to play through his head as he drifted into a contented sleep.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Again, I must express my appreciation for the support I've received from the Kimmunity while writing this story. I also must thank my long-suffering beta, Joe Stoppinghem for his ongoing help, even after scenes like that last one. _

_There's still a long way to go folks, so I hope you're enjoying the ride. _

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	14. Holiday Mission

Chapter 14: Holiday Mission

"Look at them down there," the Mathter smirked from his vantage point near a very large piece of machinery. "Stuck in nearly the exact spot that I predicted and well within my established variance."

"Okay, you figured out where they'd get stuck," Summer Gale replied, rolling her eyes. "How does this get the gold for us?"

"The equation gets more stable with every variable you eliminate," the man gloated. He lowered his specialty binoculars, which allowed he to see through the blowing snow, and smirked at the former weather woman. "By predicting where those trucks would stop, I was able to place my assets in the correct location. Even if they are able to contact someone through my jamming, we'll have the gold and be gone long before anyone can help them."

"So when do we move in and grab the gold?" She huffed back.

"When we're completely sure that they can't move," he answered. "I haven't been able to delete all of the variables, after all. Once I'm sure that the two vehicles are completely immobilized, we'll move in and grab the gold."

"I'm no criminal mastermind," Summer pointed out. "But I'm willing to bet those guards are armed and those trucks look armored. Are you sure you're going to be able to handle them?"

"That's where my mathematical genius enters the equation! I've harnessed uncertainty to a degree that would melt your lesser mind! By applying aspects of Heisenberg's uncertain…"

"Look, just give me the abridged version," Summer interrupted, rolling her eyes again.

"I've mastered the ability to prevent combustion," he smirked. "For a short time and in a limited area. Once I unleash my non-combustion field, the guards' weapons won't fire! We'll be able to overpower them and take the gold, without any casualties on either side! Developing the field was tricky, but it's about to prove worth the effort!"

"Okay genius, why didn't you just use your field on the trucks?" Summer demanded. "If it prevents combustion, won't it stop the fuel from burning and stop the vehicles?"

"It does, at that," one of the coefficients chuckled. "You shoulda been around when we were developing this field. It takes a lot of energy, so we powered it from a generator. It took us days to realize that it was actually working, because every time it activated, it shut down the generator, which killed the field. We just thought that we had bad luck with generators…"

"Silence!" The Mathter snapped at his employee. "Of course we could have used it on the trucks but you fail to factor in all of the variables! I, on the other hand, have integrated everything into my calculations! I can only establish this non-combustion field in a small area and for a short time. It won't do me any good to seize the gold if various law enforcement officials were to surround the scene! No, I needed an unexpected blizzard to isolate the crime scene and occupy any rescuers. It's a case of elegant mathematics! I simply place more assets at the scene than the opponent has, isolate the scene and statistically, I can't lose! Soon, the gold will be mine!"

"Ours," Summer informed him.

"Oh yes, you will get your percentage."

"Speaking of the percentages, why did you chose this particular mine? I mean, we're going to make some money but you could have picked out a larger mine."

"Ah," the villain gloated. "But this isn't just any gold!"

"Not just any gold? I might not remember my high school chemistry that well but I think that gold is an element. That means that gold is gold."

"You fail to appreciate the significance of the mine that's producing it! The mine was founded on September ninth of nineteen eighty-one!"

"What's the big thing about September ninth?"

"Of nineteen eighty-one!" The Mathter exclaimed. "Nine, nine, eighty-one, a square function, and the last square day of the last century. After this heist, I'll rob a shopping center that opened on January first of two thousand and one, the first square day of this century! Ha! The guards have given up travel and are now maneuvering the vehicles next to each other! Coefficient," he ordered the man staffing the machine. "Await my signal! We shall soon be very wealthy indeed!"

"Is he always this way?" Summer asked the henchman, as soon as the main villain had left to gather his other coefficients.

"It's not so bad," the man shrugged. "We have a major pie party every March fourteenth."

"Why would you have…oh!" Summer shook her head. "Why do you work for someone that bizarre?"

"It's the best job I could get with my Liberal Arts degree."

* * *

Okay Wade, we're in route," Kim looked around the cargo plane's hold. "What's the plan again?"

"The weather is too unstable to attempt to bring you in by helicopter," the technical genius reported. "But your aircraft can stay above the worst of the disturbances."

"I see a flaw in the plan, my man," Ron reported. "In order for us to get to the trucks, we have to get much lower than we are; as in _in_ the weather."

"I'm on top of that! The very instabilities that keep helicopters away will be your ticket in!"

"That one went by a little quick," the blonde commented.

"I have to agree," Kim admitted.

"It's like this," Wade explained. "The blizzard is a created weather phenomena, so it isn't very homogenous." Seeing his friends' confused looks, he explained further. "It's sort of like when you throw all of a cake's ingredients in a bowl and start the mixer; there's going to be clumps of butter, sugar and the other individual ingredients for a short time, until the mixer gets it all together."

"Actually," Ron corrected. "When mixing a…"

"He gets the idea," Kim told Wade. "Since this weather front hasn't come together naturally, there are patches of calm and wind all mixed up."

"Exactly," Wade agreed. "And these patches are unpredictable and short-lived. While the clear and calm patches won't last long enough for a helicopter or a parachute to set down, you'll be able to get down by using your jet gliders…if you hurry."

"Hurry?" Ron chimed in. "As in power diving towards the ground?"

"Pretty much."

"You know how much I hate doing that!"

"Head in the game Ron," Kim interrupted. "We're on it Wade, what's our ETA?"

"You should be over the target area in ten minutes. However, I can't say when you'll be able to jump."

"We'll be ready when the opportunity shows up," she answered.

"_You'll_ be ready," Ron corrected her. "I never am."

* * *

"Unlock the trucks and you won't be harmed," the Mathter shouted to his victims. "By now you have realized that your vehicles won't run and your firearms won't operate. You are insignificant digits in the face of my mathematical genius and thus beneath my concern!"

"Does that speech ever work?" Summer asked the coefficient operating the non-combustion field generator. "I think I'd be more irritated than intimidated."

"Sometimes," the man shrugged. "And sometimes the marks jump out to kick his over-calculating butt. Either way, we get them where we want them."

"I never thought of that," Summer admitted. "Wait! What was that?"

"What was what?"

"For a moment, I thought I heard an aircraft engine then some…screaming. Didn't you hear it?"

"Lady, I've spent the last four years listening to that guy go on his mathematical rants. Trust me, my hearing's pretty well shot."

* * *

"Okay, we're down," Kim reported over her Kimmunicator.

"Good, I had to drop you a half-mile from the altercation. I didn't know when, or if, a break would form any closer…whoa!"

"Whoa what?" Ron demanded. Is this a good whoa or a bad whoa?"

"Potentially, a bad whoa. I'm reading some powerful electromagnetic emissions from the altercation area. I'm trying to get a satellite recon but I can't be sure I'll be able to swing the run time….okay, got it! I can't get really good resolution but I've spotted the trucks and what appears to be a large machine about fifty yards away from them."

"Any clue what the field's doing?" Kim asked.

"I won't even make a guess. It's not like anything I've seen before! Wait a minute, there appears to be a generator and a snow cat a couple of hundred yards from the machine. I'm going to guess that the snow cat brought in the generator, the generator is powering the machine and the machine is emitting the field. I suggest you look into the generator and machine first."

"You rock Wade, we're moving in."

* * *

As much as the Mathter enjoyed most aspects of math, the digits the drivers/guards had displayed, in answer to his surrender demand, hardly showed proper respect to someone with his mathematical genius.

"Brackets!" He snarled. "They always insist upon doing things the hard way! No matter, I've taken this into my calculations. Coefficients, with me!"

While his no-combustion field kept fuel and gunpowder from burning, it didn't inhibit electric systems. He had already drilled his coefficients for this action. While he used his calculaser to reduce a section of the first truck's armor to its component elements, his henchmen moved in to delete the guards. Of course, thick armor took time to de-integrate but the villain wasn't concerned. His elaborate plan had assured that time wouldn't be a deciding factor. Noting that bits of iron and carbon were starting to flake away from the truck's side, he settled in for the several minutes it would take for him to reach the gold.

* * *

"Okay Wade, we appear to be dealing with the Mathter," Kim reported. The heroine focused the Kimmunicator's camera on the scene before her, panning it around at Wade's request.

"You know, it's a good thing we couldn't drop right onto the trucks," Ron commented. "If we had, we'd be right in the middle of all of that right now. As it is, we were able to sneak up on them and see what they're up to."

"Sometimes you get lucky," Kim agreed.

"I still don't know what that field's doing," Wade admitted. "But I'm sure the big piece of machinery is creating it."

"Could it be the weather controller?" Kim asked.

"No, I got a good recording when Summer created the blizzard in Middleton. These readings are completely different."

"Is it safe?" Ron asked. "I mean, is it going to do something…unnatural and number-based…to anyone who gets inside of it?"

"I doubt it," Wade answered. "The Mathter and his coefficients are right in the middle of it. I don't think they'd be doing that if it was dangerous."

"Good point," Kim nodded. "How do you suggest we proceed?"

"Whatever that machine is, it has to be central to his plans. Can you focus the camera on it again?"

Kim did as he requested, knowing that he was scanning with machine with more than just the camera.

"Wait a minute!" Ron exclaimed, albeit in a hushed voice. "Aren't the drivers armed?"

"That's the mining company's policy," Wade's voice answered.

"So why aren't they shooting?"

"For that matter, why aren't those trucks' engines running?" Kim added. "Even if they're stuck, the drivers would prefer to have the heaters operating."

"Good points," Wade conceded. "I think we have to work under the assumption that the field is responsible. I suggest that you disable the machine before you confront the….hang on a minute!"

"What's that?"

"The two people at the machine, one's a big, burly guy."

"Typical coefficient material," Ron shrugged.

"The other one's Summer Gale! I was able to focus the camera enough for my recognition software to get a solid ID. She doesn't appear to be a hostage."

"The Mathter teamed up with a rogue weather reporter," Kim mused. "I don't know if this sounds amusing or dangerous."

"It's best to assume dangerous now and laugh later," Ron suggested.

"Good advice," Wade agreed, via the Kimmunicator. "Here's my suggestion. First, disable the snow cat so the Mathter can't flee. Secondly, disable the machine then deal with the bad guys."

"That's what we'll do," Kim told him. "We're going in!"

* * *

Summer Gale was having second, third and fourth thoughts about her agreement with the math-obsessed villain. While it looked like they would be able to seize the gold and escape, the idea of putting up with his arrogant ranting for the several days it would take to get out of the snow-covered back country didn't appeal to her. Still, she was looking at pulling in a pretty good payday. Down by the trucks, the Mathter himself appeared to be on the verge of destroying, or de-integrating, in his words, the first truck's armor. A surprised grunt, behind her, caused her to spin around to see…

"Kim Possible!" She gasped. The redheaded heroine had just flattened the coefficient who had been staffing the non-combustion field emitter. Her sidekick/partner/boyfriend (Summer really didn't know what role the blonde boy played) jumped on top of the thug, grappling with him.

"Okay, we're at the machine," Kim reported to Wade. "I can't see the usual, big, red 'off' button. Any suggestions?"

"It must be working on electricity," Wade remarked. "Find a cable leading to the generator and disconnect it."

"On it," she replied, already looking around the machine. Moments later, she found the cable she was looking for and pulled it free from her machine.

"Noooo!" The coefficient, whom Ron had immobilized, screamed when he saw what she had just done.

"No what!" Ron demanded. "Bad guys screaming 'no' rarely means anything good!"

"She didn't deactivate the field before powering it down!" The man answered. "When that happens, the results can be unpredictable."

"Define unpredictable," Ron snapped back. "And by the way, just what was that thing doing anyway?"

Summer Gale didn't wait to see what was happening. Kim Possible showing up could only mean trouble and Summer was no fighter. The aging weather woman left the machinery and ran to the Mathter, screaming a warning.

Ron quickly cuffed the coefficient to the machinery while Kim reported to Wade.

"So this field kept gunpowder and fuel from burning?" The young genius asked.

"That's what the coefficient claims," Kim confirmed. "Not only that, he claims that this field takes up to an hour to disperse and that since we killed power to the generator rather than going through the power-down procedure, it might have some unpredictable effects."

"Define unpredictable."

"It might affect the weather controller's influence."

"Meaning…"

"Either even worse weather or no blizzard. He _did_ say that it was unpredictable."

"Okay, understood. I suggest that you take on the Mathter immediately. If you let him break into the vehicles, you might have a hostage situation rather than just a robbery in progress."

"Understood, Wade. We're going in."

"Good luck."

* * *

The Mathter was satisfied, if a little impatient. The first truck's last bits of armor were de-integrating into its component elements. With any luck, his coefficients would be able to seize the drivers/guards in this vehicle and compel the others to just give up.

"Kim Possible's here!" Summer's shout interrupted his musings.

"Brackets!" He snarled. "Kim Possible is a non-consistent variable that I hadn't included in my calculations! No matter, we'll deal with her. Coefficients, to me!"

Ron led the way as Team Possible closed in on the bad guys. As they had expected, the Mathter hurled both his acidic decimal points and his razor sharp numbers at the teens. The deep snow made it difficult for Kim to utilize her trademark dodging and tumbling but Ron had another option available. The Lotus Blade, formed into a shield, proved capable of withstanding the odd assaults, at least long enough for Kim and Ron to close with their enemies.

Giving Ron a quick swat on the butt, (and was that a bit of a pinch as well?) Kim signaled her next move. Knowing what she was about to do, Ron planted his feet firmly. Kim jumped up, put her feet on his shoulders, then vaulted into the middle of the surprised coefficients. The redhead became a blizzard of fists and feet, setting the henchmen back on their heels. With the brawlers distracted, Ron simply plowed into the Mathter.

In all of his years of sidekick work, Ron had seldom found himself confronted with someone smaller than him. So one could probably understand why Ron lowered his weight behind his shield and hit the Mathter with the sort of shot appropriate for meeting a collegiate linebacker. Following the rules of physics, the villain flew back to smash into the side of one of the trucks. Ron, meeting less resistance than he had expected, sprawled face-first into the snow.

There had been four coefficients in the group that Kim had torn into. Two of them went down very quickly, overwhelmed by the redheaded tornado that burst into their midst. After that, Kim found herself handicapped by the deepening snow. While Kim was still a formidable fighter, much of her technique was based upon the fact that she was supremely agile and athletic, but not very large. While the snow cover slowed everybody, it affected her more than her opponents.

The remaining two coefficients converged on the redhead. Kim quickly landed a solid shot on one's jaw. The punch, padded by her thick gloves and hampered by her reduced mobility, only knocked the man on his duff as opposed to sending him to meet the sandman. Stunned and confused, he slithered away from the redhead as she tangled with the last of the functional coefficients.

This woozy henchman was far from foolish; he knew that if he tried to help his co-coefficient fight Possible, both of them would wind up getting clobbered. However, if he were to take out Possible's sidekick? If he caught the boy, he could force Possible to give up. Turning his back on the redhead, he slogged through the snow to the blonde boy.

Ron was trying to scramble to his feet when a boot caught him in the ribs, sending him sprawling onto his back. He looked up to see one of the Mathter's burly henchmen pulling his foot back for another kick. The man smirked, relishing the punishment he was inflicting on Possible's sidekick. He unleashed another kick and his smirk faded when Ron caught and held his foot. The Lotus Blade, which had been a shield a moment before, now became a set of brass (mystic steel?) knuckles on Ron's right hand.

The coefficient's smile disappeared completely when this fist crashed into his exposed kneecap.

* * *

Kim had just finished the last of her opponents and quickly scanned the 'brawl zone' for any other operational foes. She knew that she had tagged one of the goons 'put him down for a little bit' hard and not 'completely out of the fight' hard. She caught sight of the opponent just in time to see him plant the toe of his boot in Ron's ribs. Growling, she started to run, slogging through the snow as fast as she could to help Ron. When her boyfriend turned the tables she flinched, recognizing the sound of a kneecap breaking.

The Mathter was in a quandary; he hadn't included Kim Possible in his calculations and he certainly hadn't known that her sidekick could actually hold his own in a tussle. The small villain struggled to his feet as the sidekick broke his coefficient's kneecap. Flinching at the coefficient's screams, the villain deduced that he simply couldn't win; the odds were stacked against him. With the certain knowledge that he could always hire more coefficients and build more equipment, he came to the conclusion that the only logic course of action was to flee. He activated his helicopter hat and floated into the air.

Ron dropped the coefficient to the ground, allowing the man to writhe in agony while he clutched his hurt ribs. He looked up to see the Mathter attempting an escape. While the young, blonde man admired the hat; he couldn't let the villain get away. Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he managed three running strides, followed by a leaping tackle.

Kim was amazed at the Mathter's attempted escape, both for the method and the fact that he was going to try to fly through a blizzard. She was too far away to prevent the attempt but Ron wasn't. She watched, half in admiration and half in horror, as Ron tackled the ascending villain, sending them both crashing against one of the trucks. Sparks flew as the hat's propeller blades shattered against the truck's armor. Kim was barely quick enough to dodge a broken blade that flew her way.

But Summer Gale wasn't.

Kim watched in horror as a jagged shard of high-tech polycarbonate struck the aging weather woman's leg. Summer shrieked in fear and pain and fell into the snow.

"Wade, we might have a medical emergency here!" Kim snapped into the Kimmunicator, while she ran to the injured weather reporter. She managed to gasp out a rough description of what had happened, by the time she reached her fallen, sort-of foe.

Kim knew basic first aid so she struggled to control Summer's bleeding while Wade contacted medical experts and set the Kimmunicator to monitor Summer's vitals. Ron joined her moments later. Kim didn't worry about the villains; she considered saving lives more important that bringing in the bad guys. Before long one of the driver/guards, carrying an additional first aid kit, joined them.

"Okay, here's the situation," Wade told her, once she had managed to stop Summer's bleeding. "Summer has been stabilized but she's not out of danger. The Mathter has a concussion, from one of his collisions with the armored trucks. Both of them need immediate evacuation but we can't bring in a helicopter through this weather."

"How about the Mathter's snow cat?" Kim asked.

"No can do," Ron told her. "I asked Rufus to disable it and he did a number on its electrical systems that will take hours to repair, if we even can."

"Sorry," the little rodent apologized, from his perch on Ron's shoulder.

"Can't blame a guy for doing what we asked him to do," Ron assured his little buddy.

"How about the mine's trucks?" Kim suggested.

"We can't move them," one of the drivers told her. "While we've gotten them started again and they're four-wheel drive, they can't handle this kind of snow in this kind of terrain. The mine has a snow cat, back in town. By the time it gets here…" the man left the statement hanging.

"Okay Wade, don't tell me that you're telling me there's nothing we can do," Kim chastised her young friend.

"I'm not. I have an idea but it isn't going to be easy on you and Ron."

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, the manufactured blizzard doesn't reach very high in the atmosphere but it's climbing by the minute. The drivers have a toboggan; you and Ron can load Summer and the Mathter on the toboggan and haul them to the top of a nearby peak, about ten miles away. The blizzard hasn't built up to this altitude yet, so we can still get a medivac helicopter up there. If you hurry, you can get there before the storm builds up and closes it off."

"I don't have a better idea," Kim confessed.

"But I have something to add," Ron chimed in. "Two of the coefficients escaped while we were trying to save Summer. They might try to ambush us while we're evacuating the wounded."

"Or come back for the gold," Wade added.

"Don't worry about the gold," the driver told the team. "Us or the remaining henchmen. We always carry several days worth of survival supplies and the trucks will run, keeping the heaters going, for more than a day. We'll lock the three thugs still here in one of the cargo bays and wait the storm out. The mine's snow cat should be here in twelve to fourteen hours."

"Okay, lets get rolling," Kim decided. "It's going to be rough but there's no way we're just going to sit here and watch these two die."

Team Possible was a well-oiled machine. It didn't take long to secure both the rogue weather reporter and the psychopathic mathematician on the toboggan. Rufus, carrying the Kimmunicator, rode on the toboggan with the injured criminals, monitoring them while Kim and Ron donned snowshoes and dragged the sled behind them. Team Possible made good, if tiring progress for the first ninety minutes. Then the two escaped coefficients burst out of the woods, trying to free their boss.

It was a close thing. Kim and Ron, harnessed to the toboggan and concentrating on the terrain ahead, weren't even aware that the two men had sneaked up on them. It was only Rufus's unexpected presence that warned the teens in time. Apparently the two henchmen weren't prepared to see a small, hairless rodent, bundled in his own snowsuit, burst from the blankets that wrapped the two injured criminals. Their surprised exclamations, in addition to teaching Kim and Ron some new vocabulary, warned the teens that they had enemies nearby. They untangled themselves from the toboggan's rope and rushed to confront the henchmen, who promptly fled back into the woods. Team Possible held a quick planning session.

"There's no way around it," Ron declared. "You're the better fighter so you need to keep free to do the fighting. I'm going to have to drag the sled while you walk next to it and guard it."

"Ron, it's heavy," Kim protested. "And you have injured ribs! Getting to the pickup point on time is going to be rough if you have to drag it on your own."

"Then I'm just going to have to suck it up," Ron told her. "If you have a better plan, I'm all ears."

Neither Kim nor Wade could come up with a better plan so Ron harnessed himself to the toboggan and slogged off up the mountainside. The young man silently blessed Coach Hartmann for his fixation on having his players run sprints and lift weights during the off season. The strain soon turned into a mind-numbing ordeal for Ron. While neither Summer or the Mathter were particularly large, their combined weight was greater than Ron's. Kim helped as best she could, finding a branch and using it to push the toboggan from behind, but she was mindful of the fact that her primary job was to watch for the coefficients. It was a good thing.

During the grueling, four-hour haul, the henchmen made two more attempts to free their boss. Both times, Kim was able to see them and drop into a fighting stance before they got close. Having taken a beating earlier, the two coefficients were in no mood for another fight if they couldn't catch their opponents by surprise. Still, they forced Kim to remain vigilant, which limited the help she could give Ron moving the two injured villains. It seemed to take forever and Ron's thighs had gone from burning to numb by the time the blizzard started to ebb.

Just as Wade had told them, the storm died out rapidly as they continued to climb higher. Half of an hour after they noticed the storm starting to weaken, it had died down to a light snowfall and a brisk breeze. Wade had been tracking their progress so moments after they found a fairly level clearing, they heard the medivac helicopter approaching. As soon as the emergency vehicle settled on the ground, the coefficients made another appearance.

"We surrender!" One of them declared, seeing Kim and Ron prepared to confront them.

"We thought the boss might have a plan to escape," the other added. "So we were trying to bust him free. We don't have any food, matches, sleeping bags, snowshoes, anything to keep us alive. If you don't take us out, we'll die out here."

Kim realized that as hard as Ron had worked to haul the two villains up the mountainside, the rouge coefficients must have had just as rough of a time, plowing through the deep snow without any snowshoes or skis. That explained why they had only made three attempts to free their boss; they had had trouble keeping up with the burdened teens. She felt a rush of pride towards Ron when she noticed that the two villains, who hadn't hauled two people and a hairless rodent the whole way, were panting even harder than he was.

Her good feelings didn't last. The medivac helicopter wasn't designed to carry a large passenger load. Put simply, the chopper could carry the crew, the injured and two more people. Kim, predictably, decided that Team Possible would stay behind.

"We have survival training and equipment," she told the crew. "And we're in communication with our technical support. We'll be able to make it back to the trucks. Even if we can't, we'll be able to hole up somewhere and wait out the storm."

So Ron watched, dejectedly, as the helicopter lifted off into the now-building storm while Kim called the situation update in to Wade. He couldn't completely suppress a feeling of deja-vu, watching a chopper lift off carrying the weather woman and not him.

"There's no way I can get another aircraft to your location before the weather closes in and halts air travel," Wade reported.

"Can you guide us back to the trucks?" She asked. "If nothing else, we can cram ourselves into one of the cargo compartments and get out of the wind."

"I have something better and closer," the youngster informed her. "An empty tourist cabin. You'll be heading almost directly away from the trucks but you should be able to make it in two hours, rather than the three it will take you to get back to the trucks."

"Visibility is becoming an issue," Kim informed him.

"I'll download the location and route to your Kimmunicator," Wade informed her. If that fails, I'm tracking you via satellite and can give you directions."

"Fair enough," Kim told him.

"I'll be tracking you. Wade out."

"Well, at least it'll be downhill," Ron mused. "And we aren't lugging those two with us. If my legs didn't already feel like lead, I'd call it an invigorating walk."

"C'mon Mad Dog," Kim gently chided him, draping an arm over his shoulders. "Head, or more to the point feet, in the game."

With that, the two teens mushed off into the building storm. It didn't take long before the storm closed in again. The wind and snow dropped visibility to mere feet. Fortunately for the teens, Wade tracked them diligently, plotting their route and location on a topographic map. The youngster was able to warn them about impending cliffs and other obstacles, steering them around the worst terrain. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about the cold and wind. Although he had done and excellent job of outfitting them with high-tech, winter gear the wind chill factor was still numbing. Still, the two teens had no real choice but to trust in his directions and slog on.

"Okay, your shelter's in this valley," Wade reported, after Ron had completely lost track of how much time had passed. "Turn ninety degrees to your left and go straight down the slope. It's a quarter mile away."

"Man, I'm happy to hear that," Ron commented. The teen quickly frowned; something about this slope was slightly familiar and Wade seemed to have a bit of humor in his voice during his last transmission.

Neither teen felt like solving mysteries at the moment. Energized by the news that shelter was close by, they picked up the pace and descended the ridge they were on. Before long, they found themselves at a vaguely familiar door. Wade was able to provide the code for the door's combination lock. Kim and Ron stepped inside and realized.

"Wait a minute!" Kim gasped. "Is this the same cabin…"

"That you rescued the celebrity couple from nearly two years ago," Wade finished. "The owner said that he owes you a huge favor for getting them out of there and saving him some very bad press. Do you want a full run down of the amenities?"

"Please and thank you."

"Okay, first off, turn on the lights."

Kim located a switch and did as directed. The light revealed a two-room cabin. One corner of the main room held a small, but efficient kitchenette. The rest of the room contained a couch, a queen-sized bed and a wood burning stove.

"That's surprising," Ron commented, when the lights actually came on. "I would have guessed that the storm would have taken out any power lines."

"Actually, it has," Wade told him. "After that couple got stranded, the owner took a few steps to make the cabin more survivable. For one thing, he installed a wind generator. While it isn't a large one, it's big enough to power the cabin. Want to hear about the food?"

"Dude, do you even need to ask?" Ron replied, with a very large smile.

"Okay, the owner stashed enough canned food to keep two people well fed for ten days. It should last the two of you about a week."

"Was that a shot?" Ron snapped back.

"Not really," Wade answered, perfectly seriously. "The two of you…"

"Hey!" Sounded a squeak from Ron's pocket.

"Sorry Rufus. The three of you burned off a lot of energy during the mission. You need to refuel."

"We'll pay the owner back for everything we eat," Kim insisted.

"He's already told me that he'll be insulted if you offer," Wade smiled.

"Okay, here's something," Ron interrupted. "I'll admit that Chemistry is but one of many courses in which I've scored a gentleman's C. I've never really understood the 'water expanding upon freezing' thing but even I know that it's a bad idea to store canned food in a cabin prone to freezing."

"Usually yes. The owners dug out a sort of cache pit under the cabin. There's a trapdoor right in front of you."

"Storing the grub down where it doesn't freeze," Ron nodded, opening the door to reveal a ladder leading down. "Good thinking. I'll see to the refueling." Soon, the blonde boy was going over the food he had to work with, planning Team Possible's first solid meal in several hours.

"While Ron's going over your menu, why don't you get the fire going?" Wade suggested to Kim. "First of all, you don't have any heat other than the fireplace and any heat you can get from the propane stove. You should have a fair supply of firewood inside the cabin and a massive pile behind the cabin."

"I don't really approve of cutting down trees to make little getaways more romantic," Kim sniffed. "But I don't think I can complain right now."

"Actually, nobody cut down any trees," Wade told her. "The same avalanche that trapped that couple either uprooted or broke down dozens of trees. Your host just cut up the trees that were already dead for firewood. Get the fire going. As soon as you get the cabin temperature above freezing, you'll be able to turn on the water."

Kim suddenly realized that it was quite cold in the cabin. The fact that she was out of the wind had made it seem comfortable. What Wade had referred to as a fireplace proved to be a wood burning stove. Kim approved of this, since they would get more heat for less wood than with an open fireplace. It didn't take Kim long to get a fire going. She then brought in some additional firewood from the pile outside. The cabin was noticeably warmer by the time she was finished.

"The fireplace has a thermostat and a circulating fan," Wade told her. Sure enough, Kim heard a quiet click followed by the faint whir of a high-efficiency fan. The temperature started to rise in the cabin. Rufus approved of that.

While Ron put the finishing touches on their dinner and Rufus lounged in front of the woodburner, Kim connected the cabin's septic tank and water systems. With the cabin much warmer, Kim and Ron shed their outer garments and Kim hung them up to dry out. By the time Kim dug the Kimmunicator's charging cradle out of her pack and plugged it in, Ron had their meal set on the table. It wasn't fancy fare; just stew with dumplings, but it was good, hot and filling.

"I just thought I'd let you know that the helicopter delivered both Summer and the Mathter to a medical center," Wade declared over the charging communication device. "Preliminary diagnosis are full recovery for both of them but it's a good thing you got them out when you did. I'll let you eat. Call me when you're done and I'll patch you through to your families. In the meantime, I'll see if I can track down anything more on this storm."

"You rock, as always Wade," Kim told him. "We'll talk to you later."

"Wade out."

There wasn't much conversation in the cabin for the next several minutes. Wade had been very accurate when the told his friends that they had burned off a great deal of energy and needed to refuel. All three ate more that what was probably good for them. Once finished, Ron washed the dishes while Kim called Wade.

"I've been in contact with eighteen meteorologists," he told Kim.

"Wait a minute," Kim interrupted his report. "We took maybe twenty minutes to eat! You contacted that many experts that fast?"

"I don't like to fool around, especially when guys are in a sitch," the youngster shrugged. "Anyway, they can't make a solid prediction about how long the storm will last. The fact that it was generated artificially and enhanced by the Mathter's non-combustion field generator, takes standard forecasting techniques pretty much out the window."

"Did any of them make a guess?"

"Yeah, they say that the storm should dissipate, allowing natural weather patterns to reestablish, in sometime between twelve and forty-eight hours. After that, the local authorities' rescue assets will probably be tied up helping people less prepared than you are. Bottom line up front; you'll probably have to wait out the worst of the storm then walk out to the highway."

"We've done that before," Kim informed her friend. "And this time we won't be dragging two people with us. What else do you have?"

"The mine's snow cat made it to the stranded trucks," Wade told her. "It's currently en route to the nearest town, carrying the drivers and the captured coefficients. It's extremely slow going, so they shouldn't reach civilization for several more hours. After the storm dies down, the NSA is going to confiscate the noncombustion field generator. By the way, Dr. Director strongly urges the two of you…"

"Hey!"

"The three of you to not talk about that generator. You're free to mention the weather alteration machine."

"Did you hear that Ron?" Kim called to her companion.

"Loud and clear," he replied. The dishes finished, he joined his girlfriend on the couch. "The Ron-man can keep his mouth shut when he needs to."

"Okay, now I'm going to patch you through to your families."

Wades face disappeared from the Kimmunicator's screen, to be replaced by an image from the Possibles' living room. In addition to Kim's immediate family, Ron's parents, Hanna, Slim, Joss, Nanna and Dr. Renton were seated around the room.

"Hey guys," Kim greeted them. "We're really sorry we couldn't be there."

"I understand, dear," Nanna told her. "I was really looking forward to spending some time with my oldest granddaughter but you'll be back before I return to Florida, won't you?"

"We should be able to hike out of the back country and catch a ride sometime tomorrow," Kim assured her grandmother. "I really miss you."

"And I miss you. Now, how did your mission go?"

"We got the bad guys," Kim told her. This started a very enjoyable conversation. For the next twenty minutes, Kim and Ron were able to forget that they were stranded, alone, far from friends and family on this night of celebration. Wade, however, interrupted the call.

"Several communications companies have been kind enough to donate bandwidth," he informed everyone. "But I'd rather not abuse the generosity."

"I understand," Kim told him. "We miss you all terribly and really wish we could be there tonight. We'll get back as soon as we possibly can."

"We know," Anne Possible told her daughter. "Be safe. Now, before we disconnect, I'd like Ronald to take off his shirt."

"Hello?" Ron squeaked.

"Kim told me that you took a hard shot to the ribs. I want to take a look at your injury and use some of the diagnostic equipment Wade has built into the Kimmunicator."

Ron nodded and peeled off his turtleneck.

"Nice abs," came a comment from the Kimmunicator.

"Joss! You're not helping!" Anne's voice chided her niece.

"I'm just sayin' Aunt Anne."

"I know dear, but he doesn't need to know that, we don't want him getting all arrogant about it, do we?"

"Uh, Mrs. Dr. P? I can hear you, you know," Ron informed his 'second mother'.

"Why, so you can! I never would have imagined!"

Ron just shook his head, flinching a little when his snickering girlfriend held the Kimmunicator up against his growing bruise. After a few minutes, Anne informed him that while he had a painful bruise, there didn't appear to be any bone damage.

"Everyone should be fine," Wade assured the assembled families in Middleton. "According to my calculations, they have enough food for ten days, enough propane for two weeks and enough firewood for eight months. If you have any problems, just call. I'll be monitoring."

With that, the Kimmunicator's screen went dark.

"I really miss them," Kim mused, as Ron pulled his shirt back on. "This was supposed to be a special Christmas Eve, our second as a couple and the first one after leaving for college. It was supposed to be a reunion as well as a celebration. I wish we could be there."

Ron's only response was to get up off the couch and walk to the window where he stared, with a troubled expression, out into the blowing snow.

"Ron, what's wrong?" Kim asked, frowning. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"No," Ron answered in a very quiet voice. "Just…thinking."

"About what?"

"KP, I miss them too. I mean, I'd really love to be with them all, right now. I'd love to be playing with Hanna, roughhousing with your brothers and discussing the spur incident with Joss."

Kim had to smile at that last one.

"But I have to say this. If I had my choice between being with all of them, spending this special time with my family and friends, without you, or spending this time trapped in a cabin with you, I'd choose to spend the time with you."

Kim rose to join him at the window. She draped her arm over his shoulders and waited, knowing he had more to say.

"I love my family," he continued. "I love your family but I'd leave them all behind in a moment to be with you. Does that make me a bad person?"

"Not in my book," she murmured back. "I feel the same way."

"I don't know how," he continued, turning towards her. "But this past semester, living away from home but with you, made me realize just how special you are to me. I…I never want to lose that."

"You won't," she assured him. "I'm not going anywhere, Ron Stoppable."

"You know I love you, KP."

"Oh, how I know it; and I love you too."

"I..." he started to speak; to ask how someone as special as her could choose to give her love to someone as ordinary as him but suddenly her arms were around him and his were around her. Her lips were pressed against his and it clearly wasn't the time for questions. He never recalled them moving across the room but they were suddenly on the bed, enfolded in each other's embrace. They were stranded far from home, but they were warm, safe and together.

His bruised ribs didn't cause them any trouble that night.

* * *

_A/N: Once again, my thanks to everyone who's reading this story and special thanks for those of you who have provided vital feedback via reviews and/or PM's. I also must again give credit to Joe Stoppinghem for his tireless beta work, even on his birthday. Happy birthday Joe and thanks for your help. I also have to mention that a couple of stories ago, Joe suggested having Rufus give an indignant squeak every time someone overlooked him. It was good, and I've been using the running gag ever since. _

_Drop me a line and tell me what you think about the story's direction._

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	15. Christmas Day

Chapter 15: Christmas Day

What was it about a wood-burning stove? Was it the scent from the hot metal or the slight smell of smoke that even the best couldn't keep completely contained? Was it the popping sounds that came from the burning wood inside? At this high altitude, most of the wood to be found was pine, which made for a relatively noisy fire. Was it the slight rattling sound the metal made as it expanded and shrank? Maybe it was the distinctive, orange glow. This particular model had a couple of thick, glass plates in the front, allowing some firelight to escape. What was it about a wood-burning stove that whispered a message of hominess, comfort and contentment? Kim Possible, tucked under warm blankets and burrowed in Ron's warm embrace, considered these questions with a very contented mind.

Maybe it wasn't the stove; maybe it was the fact that she could hear the wind howling outside the cabin. She was safe, warm and dry while a blizzard raged scant feet away. The cabin was well built and while it creaked now and then, no breeze found its way into her warm nest. She had always enjoyed being safe, warm and dry while severe weather howled outside. Maybe it was the imperfect heating, a wood-burner was always either too hot or not warm enough and the imperfection was strangely appealing. Was it one of these reasons that she didn't want to get up now, when she had spent her life jumping out of bed to face the day the moment she awoke?

Perhaps it was the bed itself. It was neither the most or least luxurious bed she had ever slept in. In her adventuring career, she had experienced a wide range of sleeping accommodations. During one mission, she had slept in a sleeping bag, in the mud next to a trail, during a rainstorm and had spent the next night in a five-star hotel. That second night had been decadent, spent in a four-poster, canopied feather bed with silk sheets and the finest linens. Still, she hadn't even been tempted to just lounge in bed the next morning; she had been up and ready to hit the road the moment her eyes opened. Was there something about the flannel sheets and down comforter she found herself encased in that made her just want to spend hours lying about, enjoying the feeling?

Contemplating the possible reasons she felt so indulgent was fun but she knew the real reason. The real reason was her companion-slash-best friend-slash-pre-fiancée and, as of about nine hours ago, her lover. The fact that he was lying half-next to her and half-under her was the reason she didn't really want to move.

Okay, that wasn't totally honest. Right now, she was sorely tempted to wake him up for another round. However, two things kept her from acting on this impulse. The first was very practical; the two had agreed that any…encounters…between them would be done 'double-Dutch' and while both had been equipped for a round, they had gone both rounds last night. The second reason was more abstract; Kim suspected that while their future, intimate relations would be fairly rare, fit in whenever they could find some discreet time to themselves, doing what she was right now would be even harder to schedule. She intended to enjoy every moment she could, simply indulging in a long cuddle while studying this young man who she had chosen to mold her life around…who had chosen to mold his life around her.

Using the slightest of touches, she traced the very faint scars around his left eye with her index finger. When Monkey Fist had first 'completed his scar monocle', the scars had been very obvious and unsightly. Now, they had faded to the point that you could only notice them when you were very close, like she was right now. In fact, they gave his face a bit of character.

She had to admit that there was something very average about Ron's initial presentation, something that just made him blend in with any group. He was neither tall nor short, neither husky nor thin. He wasn't particularly handsome or unsightly. He wasn't highly intelligent nor was he foolish. He wasn't overly cool, geeky or nerdy. In general, he was the sort of 'Joe Average' who never seemed to stand out in a crowd.

Until you got to know him better.

That was when his value really started to show. Kim recalled Monique telling her about a conversation, in Ron's room, during the Eric fiasco. Ron had told the fashion maven that he knew girls, even pretty, popular girls could be interested in him; but only after they got to know him. The redhead was very thankful that she had met this young man in preschool, all those years ago. If not for that meeting and the following friendship, they probably would never have hooked up. How much different their lives would have been.

Kim pushed these thoughts out of her mind. The could-have-beens weren't important. What was important was that they had somehow managed to get together and stay together. Despite his randomness and her bossiness, despite his insecurities and her overconfidence, they had gotten together. Kim rested her head on his chest and just reveled in the togetherness and the fact that he had the most relaxed expression she had ever seen on his face.

That last thought brought a slightly naughty smirk to her lips. Round one had been a little awkward, to the point that Ron had even wondered, out loud, how the world's population could have gotten into the billions. Still, they had been more than willing to work through the…less than graceful…parts. Round two had been much more satisfying, even though Ron had fallen asleep shortly afterward and hadn't stirred much since. He had only gotten up once; to stoke the fire and visit the cabin's 'second room', before sliding back under the covers, cuddling up to her and falling back asleep.

Kim's smirk turned into a bit of a prideful smile. Despite his athletic prowess, she could still drive him to exhaustion! She had been awake, she didn't know exactly how long, while he remained dead to the world. Of course, she knew that it wasn't a very fair comparison. During yesterday's mission, he had taken it upon himself to drag the toboggan most of the way, expending a great deal of energy and freeing her up to fight the bad guys. Still, it was gratifying to know that she had put the smile on his face and dropped him into such a deep, peaceful slumber.

He stirred slightly, interrupting her musings. His eyelids flickered, then opened, leaving the two of them staring into each other's eyes. For over a minute, they simply looked at each other, while Kim tried to somehow project the love she was feeling through that gaze. Finally, she leaned forward for her good morning kiss.

"KP," he said, after their lips separated. "Why me?"

"Why you what?" She gently asked.

"Why did you choose me?" His eyes lowered for a moment, then returned to hers. "I'm not going to go all cliché and say that you could have any guy you want, but it's pretty close. You're so pretty, smart and you care about everyone so much that you had…still have…a pretty wide choice of guys. Why did you choose me?"

Kim was ready for the question. In a flash, a chain of events formed in her mind: First, the blow up she had at him when he had sympathized with Bonnie during the Pump fiasco. This had taught her that she had to take a moment and think before snapping at the people she cared about the most. Next came the revelation that Faye was starting to have feelings for him. The lesson she had learned after her blowup made her willing to listen to Marcella and Lisa. This talk had given her a glimpse from Ron's point of view. Now, she was ready to deal with his insecurities.

"I'm not going to list your good points," she murmured to him. "You have them, a lot more than you give yourself credit for. I'm not going to list all of my bad points, the faults that you've managed to accept. Instead, I'm just going to give you the simple answer; I'm happy when I'm with you."

Ron blinked. "That simple?"

"That simple!" Kim insisted. "Ron, I'll admit to getting distracted by a hot guy. Heck, a cute guy can _still _turn my head…just like a cute girl can make you look!"

This last statement prompted a slightly guilty expression to appear on Ron's face.

"It's okay because that's all it is, us turning our heads and admiring someone's looks. What it really comes down to is the fact that the happiest moments in my life have you in them. Since I'm a very logical person, it only made sense to fall completely in love with the guy who makes me happy, in every way. That's why I chose you and, by the way, I don't have a wide choice of guys open to me. I've already given you my heart and I'm just not wired to play the field. I've made my choice, Ron Stoppable, and that choice is you. Now, I'm going to do everything in my power to make you just as happy as you make me."

"You really mean that?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

Ron spent several minutes in deep thought. A couple of times, he acted like he was ready to say something, but stopped. Kim gave him his time, knowing that this would be very important.

"Do you really want this…us…forever?" He asked.

"More than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

His indecisiveness vanished. "KP, Kim Possible, will you marry me?"

"Of course I will," she breathed, somehow having known that he would ask.

"I thought this was supposed to be difficult and dramatic."

"For two people who've known each other for as long as we have? Not so much. Ron, let's face it, we both decided we want to spend our lives with each other some time ago. This is just formalizing it."

"Okay, so what say we take a few days, after Christmas, and pick out the engagement ring? I'm still 'style challenged' and I want to get it right."

"Sounds good to me," Kim answered, nestling down onto his chest again. "But I'd like to wait until we get the ring to tell the 'rents."

"That's fine by me."

"I want to surprise them…even though I don't think mom's going to be very surprised. When do you think we should get married?"

"I was thinking after we get our degrees."

"That's a long time but it makes sense. I'd like to get the formal education out of the way before we really start our lives. Where will we live?"

"Wherever we can find good jobs but I hope we can live close to home."

"Me too. What about…"

The pillow talk was wonderful. Cuddled up with each other, nothing seemed out of their reach. They talked about the type of life they wanted to have together, including what they wanted for a family and pets. At this moment, Kim was able to contemplate her own potential problems in that regard without sorrow. Somehow, they'd get through these issues, if these issues actually existed, and have their happy future.

"Hey guys!" Wade's voice greeted them from the Kimmunicator.

"Yipes!" Both teens exclaimed, springing out of the bed.

Moments later, both felt incredibly foolish. Both of them had visited the 'second room' during the night and while they were very comfortable with each other, they weren't comfortable enough to wander around naked in front of each other, so they were both wearing their thermal underwear. In effect, they were wearing light sweat suits. While Wade still became a little uncomfortable whenever he saw them cuddling or kissing, they didn't jump like that when he caught them doing so. Had they just given away what they had done?

"Sorry to startle you," he apologized. "But I thought you'd want an update."

"Please and thank you," Kim replied. The two teens sat back down on the bed and awaited news on what was happening outside their shelter.

"Okay, the weather patterns are starting to stabilize. The meteorologists I've been talking to believe that you'll have blizzard conditions for another four to six hours followed by extremely cold but calm conditions for another eight. After that, the patterns become unpredictable once again. This is our opportunity to get you out of there. Once the winds die down, the Department of Transportation crews are going to start plowing the highways. You should be able to walk out to the highway at that time and I should have a ride scared up by the time you reach it."

"In other words, we're going out just like we did almost two years ago?" Kim prompted.

"But without the extra baggage," Wade finished.

"Anything else to report?" Kim asked.

"Summer and the Mathter are out of the woods, both figuratively and literally. Both have already met with their lawyers, pending questioning from the authorities. The miners and the other coefficients made it out of the backcountry. The coefficients have also consulted with their attorneys and I have a lead that says at least one of them is ready to turn state's evidence against the Mathter and Summer."

"So far, so good," Ron commented.

"I've also been in touch with your families. While you guys usually exchange gifts had have your traditional festivities on Christmas morning, everyone has agreed to put everything off until tonight, when the two of you can be there."

"Are they saving _everything_ for tonight?" Ron insisted, with a touch of anxiety in his voice.

"Yes Ron, they've saved Christmas Dinner for tonight. Your mothers told me to tell you that since they have a few extra hours, they're going to be adding some extra dishes."

"Boo-ya!" The blonde, young man leapt from the bed and pumped his fist in a victory demonstration. Kim both shook her head at his antics and felt relief that his undercover had a snugger waistband than his pants. It would be very embarrassing if he were to have one of his trademark wardrobe malfunctions now.

"Amp down, Mad Dog," Kim chided her boyfriend, although her arm draped over his shoulders made it clear that she wasn't upset with his antics. "Anything else for us, Wade?"

"Nothing that can't wait until we get you out of the backcountry. The weather influence didn't reach as far as Middleton, so we have a light breeze and light snow. It looks like we're going to have perfect weather for the parade tomorrow."

"We're looking forward to it," Kim replied. "Can't wait to see you again."

"I'll be standing by if you need me, Wade out."

"Wow," Ron murmured.

"Wow what?" Kim asked him.

"Just yesterday morning, I was ice skating with my little sister; I was just another teenager. Now, I'm engaged to the most perfect girl in the world! Christmas season rocks!"

"You are sooooo weird," she smiled at him. "And don't ever change. Now, as much as I'd like to lounge around here with my bondigity fiancé…"

"I know, I know," Ron finished for her. "There's work to do."

"You know it. We're going to be here for another four to six hours, so we need to bring in some more firewood and keep that fire going. We also need to give our equipment a good once-over. Getting halfway out and having one of our snowshoes break apart would be a very bad thing."

"We also need a good, hot meal in us," Ron added. "It's going to be a cold walk out and the way the snow has been blowing, we're going to have drifts to fight through. I also want to clean everything up in here before we go. The owners were nice enough to let us use the place and I don't want to be a bad guest."

"Okay, let's get to it," Kim declared, grabbing her snowsuit. "I'll bring in the firewood while you fix us something to eat. Then we'll check out our gear and clean up the cabin."

"Back to the grind," Ron murmured, opening the trapdoor to retrieve some food.

"Hey, don't complain," Kim pointed out. "The sooner we get back home, the sooner we can spend the rest of our break together."

As Kim opened the cabin door to retrieve the wood, she spotted Rufus. The mole rat was curled up in a hand towel, in front of the wood-burner. Kim had never been very good at reading his expressions, but was that a slightly disproving look on his face?

* * *

"Come on in Drew and Merry Christmas," Dr. Betty Director opened the door to admit her…not quite…employee.

"Merry Christmas to yourself Dr. Director," the blue-toned man greeted her, pushing a covered cart through the door. "I took the liberty of preparing a meal for us."

"That's wonderful, Drew," Dr. Director took a moment to breathe in the mixed aromas. "I was expecting simply a glorified snack. This looks like a feast."

"I always like to go a little all out on the Holiday," the former villain told the law enforcement official. "It's one of my quirks."

"Right now, I'm not going to complain."

While Drew Lipsky wasn't a wizard in the kitchen, he was competent and soon a full, Christmas banquet was spread out on Betty Director's kitchen table. She hadn't been kidding when she said that she was only expecting some light refreshments. The solid meal was a welcome surprise.

"Drew," she asked, between bites. "Have you ever wondered if it was all worth it?"

"Was what worth what?"

"The accomplishments and positions we've attained," she explained. "Were they worth the sacrifice?"

"What sacrifice would that be?" He asked, completely perplexed.

"The loss of the social network most other people have. I mean, look at us; neither of us have our own families, or even close friends for that matter."

"I guess it wasn't much of a sacrifice on my part," Drew mused, after a few moments' thought. "I was ostracized throughout my childhood and young adult years and spent my career, if you can call it that, trying to prove my genius to the world. I was never able to forge strong friendships and honestly wondered how anybody could. I was forming some friendships during my early college years but I guess my own oddities drove those almost-friends away from me."

Dr. Director nodded. She had a full background report on her guest and had read it several times.

"In the end, I guess I might have still established friendships if I could have swallowed my pride and accepted the fact that my quirks were imperfections and not marks of superiority, like I had convinced myself they were. The only family I have is my mother and cousin. I guess you could call Shego my friend, although I consider her something of a daughter."

"So I guess you could conclude that my regrets are somewhat jaded," Drew Lipsky looked very sad. "I can't say that I sacrificed friendship and family in order to achieve greatness, because I never really had friendships or a family to sacrifice. I also can't look upon my accomplishments with any pride; for my entire criminal career, a teenaged girl continually thwarted me…as a hobby. Therefore, you have to conclude that I sacrificed nothing to accomplish nothing."

Both hostess and guest simply ate in silence for the next several minutes, with the atmosphere's depression almost palatable.

"How about you, Dr. Director?" Drew broke the uncomfortable silence. "Certainly someo…"

"Drew," his hostess interrupted him. "In a private setting like this, you're free to use my first name. After all, you're not exactly my employee, are you?"

"I guess not Dr…er…Betty. Now, where was I?"

"You were asking about my past and my current lack of friends and family."

"Oh yes, quite right…anyway, certainly someone with your list of accomplishments must think any sacrifice was worth the results."

"You would think so and, for the most part, it never bothers me. It's just times like this, holidays and other, traditional get-together times, I have to wonder. Sure, I built Global Justice from a two-desk office, in the UN's basement, to an international crime-fighting agency. Sure, I could pick up my phone and within minutes be speaking to any number of presidents, prime ministers, premiers, or whatever else the head of state is called. So why is a semi-reformed criminal the only person I can even think to invite over for the holidays?"

"I see that Shego's not the only one who can hurt with words."

"I didn't mean it as an insult!" She reached across the table to pat his hand. "I mean…"

"What you meant," he interrupted, with his tone more sorrowful than reproachful. "Is why does everybody you know have someone, or some group, they would rather spend the holiday with, than you."

"You summed it up perfectly," Betty nodded. "I don't get along with my father…you know why."

Drew nodded. He was one of the few people to know that Betty Director's father had been one of the most powerful mob bosses on the East Coast before the FBI had taken him down.

"And let's just say that my rivalry with my twin brother makes your rivalry with Dementor seem like a polite misunderstanding," she continued. "My mother has passed away and while I have a couple of cousins, I was never very close to them."

"Trust me, I've been there," Drew commiserated. "My own cousin would rather spend his time with his gearheads, rather than with me, although I don't think he can do that anymore. My mother always wants me over for the holidays, but all I get is a constant lecture about how all of her friends have grandchildren and she has none."

"Maybe that's the biggest regret," she admitted. "Every time I see someone from my past, a former classmate or neighbor, he or she always has a family. Do you ever regret never having children?"

"Yes," he admitted. "Once I reached my forties. It isn't a constant regret, just…every once in awhile." He sighed, "I'm not a psychologist by any definition but I think that we're all wired to want to mold young lives; to guide them through the pitfalls that affected us and see them develop into well-adjusted adults. Certainly your responsibilities allow you to do this. Don't you find developing young agents…fulfilling?"

"Usually, but I sometimes wonder if I'm doing this right." Seeing her guest's confused look, she explained; "It's a rough job, being a Global Justice agent. The stress is intense and the hours are unpredictable; which makes for a very family unfriendly atmosphere. There are a lot of failed marriages among my senior agents."

"But certainly it's worth it!" Drew protested. "Those same agents have earned a great deal of respect within the law enforcement and intelligence communities."

"Yes, they have their peers' respect," Betty sighed. "But I wonder how much that will mean forty years from now, when those same agents retire to empty homes and empty lives." She shook her head; "do you believe that I looked into adopting?"

"I confess I have trouble seeing you as a mothering type."

"So do I but maybe that's what's missing; coming home after a horrid day to see a little face, hear a small voice and know that _that's_ why you put yourself through everything. Obviously, it didn't work out."

"What went wrong?"

"The adoption agency wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of placing children with a single, career-obsessed woman with a dangerous job. After thinking it through, I was forced to agree."

Drew didn't know how to respond; the two simply continued to dine in a regretful silence. Finally, Betty broke the tension.

"Enough self-pity," she declared. "I believe you said you had a wager to bring to our gaming session."

"Indeed," he smirked at her. "And you are so going down this time!"

"It's Monopoly day," she reminded him. "You can hold your own when we play pinochle but I always destroy you at Monopoly."

"Destroyed, as in past tense," he riposted. "I'm ready this time."

The gloomy atmosphere vanished as the two cleared the dinner table and set up a Monopoly board. The two…almost-friends…were soon dealing and trading, talking a great deal of trash. It took close to an hour, but Betty eventually gained the upper hand over her opponent. Drew decided to play one of his hidden assets.

"How much have you managed to find out about the Holy Roller?" He asked. Betty's only response was to fix him with her one eye. Although Betty had an excellent poker face, Drew knew he had just caught her by surprise. "The villain community is truly in a sorry state if she's one of the up and coming threats," he commented.

"You would think that someone who's managed to mix religious fundamentalism and bowling would be more of a psychopath than a threat," Betty allowed. "I don't know her mental process, but she's managed to see a parallel between the Ten Commandments and the ten pins. I don't know how knocking down the pins equates to upholding the commandments, or how she gets around the whole 'Thou shall not steal' thing but she's strangely effective. Her thunderbolt bowling ball strike is devastating and she's very good at framing people. If she ever assembles a group of capable underlings, she'll be very dangerous. "

"Yes," Drew agreed. "She approached me to supply henchmen, or spares, like she calls them. Unfortunately, she insists that any such employees are able to bowl a 250 score. I was unable to find anyone up her alley. It's almost a pity that Shego isn't still on the mercenary market."

"Shego bowled well?"

"Only once. I was looking for a relaxing, recreational activity and thought that bowling would be nice." Drew shuddered. "It turns out that Shego bowls overhand. While she's very effective, few alleys will welcome her back for a second game. I took up karaoke the next week. No matter, I'm interested in learning how your efforts to bug her bowling pins went."

"Your information is incomplete," Betty informed him, putting down the dice. "We indeed bugged her custom made pins but we also installed miniature cameras. That was a horrible mistake."

"How so?"

"She actually used these pins to bowl. One of my agents was observing the video feed when she hit a perfect strike and received the pin's point of view." Betty gave Drew a pained look. "That agent was susceptible to vertigo."

"So…ah," Drew nodded. "I take it the result was…messy?"

"Messy, loud and we had to replace a keyboard. Anyway, I'm duly impressed with how you managed to figure out what I was up to but I don't think this is your trump card."

"Indeed it isn't," Drew gloated. "Let's make a deal, if you agree to forego putting hotels on St. Charles Place for the next six turns and sell me Marvin Gardens, at twice its face value, I'll reveal another of your strategic partnerships."

"Okay, deal!" Betty agreed, after a few moments' thought.

"Excellent! Global Justice has an agreement with Club Banana International! At first, I thought that you were simply contracting them to produce uniforms but I've determined that this is not the case. I now _know_ that this partnership is somehow linked to Club Banana's ongoing European marketing blitz. I _suspect_ that you will try to place agents in Club Banana stores, to 'finger the pulse' of Europe's young, hip generation."

"You're close," Betty admitted. "I won't tell you our plan but I'll say that you're close."

"Now…"

"Yes, now we decide what you're going to reveal to your customers, to let them know you still have an effective intelligence operation." Betty took a moment to gauge Du's vulnerability. She decided that she could protect him best by offering half the truth. After all, if Drew had managed to uncover part of her agreement with Cocoa Banana, someone else could as well. "You can inform your customers that Club Banana is somehow aiding Global Justice but you're not sure how. You can also inform them that you suspect that Club Banana will be sheltering Global Justice informants among its retail employees. Don't reveal anything beyond that."

"You can't imagine how much those little tidbits are going to pump up my villain cred."

"Yes, I can imagine," Betty smiled at the man. "However, I don't want you revealing that we're trying to spy on the Holy Roller. She's still a little naïve and might slip up if she doesn't know better. On the other hand, I'll be cracking the whip tomorrow."

"Yes, trying to find the leak that allowed me to learn your efforts," Drew gloated. "Still, knowing that you have a leak is the first step, and the largest one, towards finding it."

"I know that very well, Drew."

"Why are we still talking shop? Now that I have acquired all of the yellow properties, I'm going to develop them and crush you!"

"You think," Dr. Director smirked at him. "I'll be purchasing twelve houses, then two hotels, for the purple properties."

"Hey! We agreed that you wouldn't place a hotel on St. Charles Place for another six turns!"

"But we didn't say anything about houses," Betty countered, with a superior grin. "Nor did we say anything about hotels on the other two properties."

"Meh…caught again," Drew grumbled. "No matter, do you mind if I ask another work-related question?"

"Fire away."

"Where did you come up with the idea of bugging bowling pins? You have to admit that it's more than a little…unconventional."

"It was actually a staff entomologist who came up with the idea."

"An insect scientist? How did he come up with the idea?"

"He thought it would be interesting to bug pins, rather than pinning bugs, as a change of pace."

"Ugh, I'm sorry I asked."

* * *

Being a junior, roving reporter entailed putting up with every bit of crap that Warren had warned her about, Marla realized. For one thing, she got stuck working over the holidays. While she wasn't exactly in love with her small apartment in Casper, it was at least a place to call home. She just wished that she could spend a couple of sequential nights in the place. Instead, she had found herself in southwestern Wyoming covering the Department of Transportation's efforts to repair an aging road. While she hadn't been thrilled at the idea of traveling such a rural area, especially on Christmas Eve, she had decided to take Warren's advice and try to learn something.

She discovered that Wyoming's Rocky Mountain region was sparsely populated, the accommodations weren't exactly luxurious and the nightlife was more than a little quaint, but the people were friendly. With a burst of shame, Marla realized that these rural folk, the ones she and her urban, reporter friends looked down their artificially sculpted noses at, were every bit as intelligent as she was. Most of them simply didn't have the obsessions with trends and celebrities that Marla had come to believe were universal. As per Warren's prediction, she was opening her eyes a little wider and becoming a little wiser.

Of course, that was cold comfort when a blizzard, which no meteorologist had predicted, suddenly struck. She and her cameraman abandoned their thin hopes of making it home for Christmas Day and holed up in a mom-and-pop hotel. While it wasn't a five star resort, it was obvious that the owners were doing everything they could to accommodate their stranded guests. That's when Marla caught a break in the form of a call from her producer.

"We got a tip," he declared. "A source from a hospital, south of you in Colorado, says that they're treating the Mathter and Summer Gale. As soon as they're released, they're going into police custody. There are absolutely no news organizations ready to cover this story so get down there and get some footage."

While she and her cameraman weren't about to get on the road to return home in this storm, they also weren't about to let a good story get away. Fortunately, their 'news van' was really an extended cab, four-wheel drive pickup with a camper and the cameraman was a local who had grown up driving through deep snow. It was slow going, made all the slower by the cameraman insisting on stopping to check every stalled vehicle, assuring himself that nobody was stranded in the snow. Finally, as the sun set, somewhere above the storm, they reached their destination. The two rented the last two rooms available and made their way to the hospital.

Marla wasn't surprised when the admissions staff wouldn't let them in to see the two 'special' patients. The staff did, however, confirm that the Mathter, Summer Gale and one of the Mathter's employees, or coefficients, were patients and would be released to police custody the next day. Marla and her cameraman shot some stills and sent the station a quick report, via their satellite connection, before turning in for the night.

They were up early the next morning, at which time the city's chief of police granted them a rare, Christmas Day interview.

"I don't have a great deal of information," he told the two, while the storm howled outside of his modest office. "I will say that Mr. Calvin Culas, also known as the Mathter, was airlifted into our regional medical center yesterday, shortly before this storm closed down all air travel. He was accompanied by three people; Miss Summer Gale, Mr…."

As an Upperton reporter, Marla recognized Summer's name and was well aware of the older woman's history. While the former celebrity scandal tracker wasn't known for her grip on 'serious' news, she was perfectly capable of putting two and two together. Summer Gale, an unpredicted blizzard and a high-tech criminal added up to a conspiracy.

"I will confirm that upon Mr. Culas's release and the weather clearing, he will be formally charged with attempted grand theft, assault and various other, minor charges," the chief continued. "Miss Gale and the other two men, who identified themselves as coefficients, will be facing accessory charges. Finally, late last night, a snow cat evacuated seven additional men from the backcountry. We have identified three of these evacuees as additional employees, or coefficients, of Mr. Culas's."

"Chief," Marla asked. "Who were the other evacuees?"

"We are not releasing their names at this time," the chief answered. "As they are not facing charges."

"Can you tell me why they were in the backcountry?"

"Certainly. They are employees of a gold mine and were hauling out a shipment. The blizzard caught them in route."

"Could I interview them?"

"It won't do you any good, Miss." The older man offered her a sympathetic smile. "I've asked them to not talk to anybody, pending sentencing and trial, and they're good people. They won't tell you anything."

"Okay," she responded with a pout, hoping for some more sympathy. "But I'm putting a villain, a former weather reporter, a freak blizzard and gold together and coming up with an attempted robbery."

"You're free to draw any conclusions you want, Miss." He winked at her, telling her that she was on the right track.

"Okay, did the employees allegedly fight off the alleged robbery attempt?"

"I can't comment on that," he told her. "However, I can say that two volunteers arrived to assist the mine crew."

"How could two volunteers get into the remote backcountry, on short notice, in that weather?"

"Oh, it would seem hardly _possible_ for two young people to make it there, wouldn't it?"

Marla had gotten the hint. Somehow, Kim Possible and…what was his name…Ron Stoppable…had gotten wind of the robbery attempt and had moved in to thwart it.

"Did Kim…er…the volunteers come out with the medivac or with the snow cat?" She asked the chief.

"Neither. The volunteers had to transport Mr. Culas and Miss Gale to the medivac point. The helicopter didn't have enough capacity to carry them as well as the victims, so they stayed behind. The storm shut down all air travel but they were able to reach a well-stocked cabin yesterday evening and will hike out today, after the storm subsides."

"Where will they come out of the backcountry?"

"I don't know at this time," he replied then, seeing her pouting expression quickly added. "I'm monitoring the situation, in case they need help, but they haven't finalized their plans yet. Now, before you get too upset, I'll tell you that we'll be transferring both Gale and the Mathter from the medical center to our holding facility here at city hall later this morning. While I won't allow you to interview the suspects, you'll at least be able to get some footage."

"I guess that's better than nothing," Marla admitted, giving him a copy of her business card. "Do you know anywhere we can get a meal on Christmas Day?"

The chief directed them back to their hotel, where the owner did his best to feed his stranded guests from the built-in cafe. Marla actually enjoyed the company, talking with her fellow travelers and learning what had caused them to be out on the holidays. After the meal, Marla and her cameraman braved the snowy but clearing streets to visit the medical center. They managed to get some footage of the Mathter, Summer Gale and the coefficients being released from the medical center and taken into police custody. Marla recorded a report, which made her manager very happy. She and her cameraman were debating what to do next when the police chief called her.

"I have a tip for you," he said. "Since I couldn't be more helpful earlier. A local man just asked me when the Department of Transportation is going to have a certain section of highway cleared. Apparently, the _volunteers_ are going to be hiking out of the backcountry and this man is going to pick them up at a certain time and at a certain place. Are you interested?"

"I'm a reporter, of course I'm interested."

Marla copied the location and time, then ran off to collect her cameraman. Three hours later, after following a snowplow along a winding highway, they found themselves on the side of the highway observing another vehicle, which was parked on the shoulder. Before long, two figures appeared on the top of a ridge, overlooking the highway.

Marla borrowed the camera and focused on the hikers with the long-range lens. Sure enough, she recognized Kim Possible and her boyfriend. For several long minutes, Marla considered the situation. While Kim Possible hadn't really caused her current exile, Warren had been working on the heroine's behalf when it happened. Sure, Kim hadn't actually done anything to her, but Marla couldn't deny the harsh attitude she had towards the redhead. How should she word this report?

Marla reached a decision. Handing the camera back to the cameraman, she told him to start taping.

"This is Marla Agile," she dictated into her microphone. "Where a crime has been committed in the backcountry. Team Possible is now leaving the immediate area…"

* * *

_A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you again for continuing to read my latest offering. I must also thank Joe Stoppinghem for his continued efforts to keep the story readable. While I have tried to maintain an update per week, I might not be able to maintain the pace. Reality continues to infringe upon my recreational life. I haven't given up on the story, but you might not get an update next week. (Pauses while hearing some groans and a few cheers) Anyway, I've really appreciated the reviews and PMs. Thanks again and, until my next update..._

_best wishes, _

_daccu65_


	16. Changes

Chapter 16: Changes

Something had changed.

That thought forced its way to the forefront of Dr. Anne Possible's thoughts. The brain surgeon sat in her dark, quiet house and wondered if she should be happy or upset. Of course, she wouldn't even be aware that something might have changed except for pure chance.

The twins had a glitch in their automatic snowball-launching machine. An hour or so earlier, in the dead of the winter night, it had rebooted and started targeting movement. By unlucky coincidence, a couple of deer had been in the Possibles' yard and had found themselves on the receiving end of a snowball barrage. For all their recklessness, the twins didn't want to actually hurt anyone so they had built their machine to launch its projectiles at a relatively low velocity…one the deer had no difficulty dodging. Instead, the snowballs had pounded the Possible home, waking everybody up. Anne hadn't been able to settle back down to sleep after chasing her sons out into the cold to stop, disconnect and put away their invention. Instead, after everyone had a good laugh at the boys (they hadn't programmed their machine to have any blind spots and the two boys had returned to the house looking like undersized snowmen) she had found herself sitting in the den. With nothing better to do, she decided to check on her daughter and Ron.

Anne Possible wasn't a voyeur and she wasn't overly concerned about her daughter's relationship; she had valid concerns about the teens. For one thing, Ron's injury could always prove to be more serious than it first appeared. For another thing, the kids…no…the young adults weren't in the safest circumstances. A wood-burning stove carried risks of carbon monoxide and fire, especially with a blizzard raging outside the cabin. While Wade had programmed the Kimmunicator to sound an alert in case of either emergency, Anne Possible saw nothing wrong with checking. She sat at the family computer and opened the link that Wade had installed.

Wade Lode was an incredibly efficient and thoughtful programmer. After a few minutes for the Kimmunicator to respond to the communication inquiry, the screen displayed various readings. Anne quickly determined that the carbon dioxide level had remained safe and steady, well below the maximum safe level, for the last few hours. The temperature was much more variable; dropping as low as sixty-five and climbing as high as the low eighties…but that was to be expected with a wood-burning stove. Satisfied that the two were safe, she attempted to click the icon to close off the screen…

…but her tired mind mistook the 'video feed' icon for the 'close' icon! Before she realized what was happening, she was greeted with a view of the inside of the cabin. Before she could really comprehend what she had done, the low-light camera on the Kimmunicator compensated for the flickering, orange illumination. Anne gasped at what she saw.

The teens were in the same bed, which was to be expected. The cabin only had one bed. What had caught Anne by surprise was the fact that they were cuddled up close, their limbs intertwined. After a moment's thought, she realized that she shouldn't be surprised. After all, if she were nineteen, had found the love of her life and was with him in such an isolated setting… They had also kicked off most of the bed's covers, which was also to be expected since the cabin's temperature was in the mid seventies.

The image came even more into focus, revealing that the teens were wearing their thermal undergarments, or light sweat suits. The brain surgeon breathed a sigh of relief, then wondered why she had done so. She had long ago decided that she wouldn't interfere…more than necessary…in her daughter's love life. Before Kim left for college, Anne had set her down, in private, for a very serious conversation. The gist of the discussion had been Anne giving her blessing for her daughter to pursue a physical relationship with Ron. The only stipulations that she had put on her daughter was that the two take all appropriate precautions and that they didn't flaunt their activities. The two had been together, as in a steady couple, for more than a year by that time. Anne was certain that they weren't going to jump into this new aspect out of curiosity or simple lust. By that time, it was clear to Anne that the two were fully committed to a deep, romantic relationship with each other.

Of course, just because they were dressed didn't meant that nothing had happened, just like them sharing the same bed didn't prove that something had. Anne looked closer and noted that the sheets and Kim's hair were seriously disheveled. Of course, this didn't prove anything, either. She killed the connection, imagining what the kids would do if they woke up and saw her face peering at them from the Kimmunicator's screen, and sat back in deep thought.

While she had given her daughter the green light, so to speak, she hoped that they had used good judgment…if they had done anything. Back when she was a twenty-something young woman, Anne reached the conclusion that the term 'soul-mate' was one best restricted to fictional novels; such relationships just didn't exist in the real world. For years, despite the fact that she loved her husband intensely, her experiences had supported this theory…until her own daughter found friendship with a little, blonde boy. Even as the kids went through the 'boys/girls are icky' phase, the friendship never wavered. Somehow, Kim didn't consider Ron a _boy_ and Ron didn't consider Kim a _girl_. They were friends and gender never seemed to enter the equation. Then Kim discovered boys.

Of course, the boys had always been there but suddenly Kim noticed, and approved of, the gender difference. At first it was a relief, since it suddenly became much easier to get the girl to shower and brush her teeth. Much to Anne's bemusement, her daughter continued to treat Ron like a best friend, even gushing to him about how hot some guy was. For a long time, and to Anne's immense relief, these gossip sessions didn't bother Ron one bit. He still considered Kim…Kim…and he only got upset when her gushing or crushing got in the way of having fun. The day they were watching some boy band on television and Ron's jaw went tense when Kim started to talk about how hot the guys were; Anne knew that Ron had both discovered girls and had realized that Kim was one of them.

Anne found the next couple of years interesting, to say the least. It was clear to the brain surgeon, if nobody else, that Ron had at least a slight crush on Kim. Kim, on the other hand, not only failed to return the feeling, she seemed completely unaware that Ron was a guy. She continued to talk about her crushes to him, not noticing his scowls. At times Anne wanted to smack Kim and ask her why she was obsessing about some guy she might never meet, when a good guy was hers for the taking. More often, she had to stifle her own laughter at how clueless both of them were about the whole situation. Occasionally, Anne wanted to smack the boy and tell him to tell her daughter that he was a _guy _and that he _liked_ her. However, she kept her silence, understanding that if the teens found out she was trying to push them together, they would resist. She also knew what Ron was going through.

Put in simple terms, Ron was intimidated by Kim's beauty. She was food chain elite, whether or not she would admit it, while Ron was a bottom feeder. While the friendship remained, despite the fact that Kim didn't even consider Ron in that light and Ron didn't dare to make a move, they were starting to drift apart. For awhile Anne thought that Josh would, without knowing it, cause the two of them to cease being best friends and become just friends. However, Kim somehow managed to juggle a boyfriend and a male best friend for months before breaking up with Josh. Anne had provided a sounding board for her daughter after the breakup and was proud of her daughter when she stated that she wanted to repair her neglected friendship. Then Kim came home, stunned to report that Ron had a girlfriend.

Anne smiled, remembering the shocked look on Kim's face. It was clear that the girl still wasn't considering Ron in the boyfriend light but something changed that night. In Kim's eyes, Ron had suddenly become a guy. Anne was actually pleased about Ron's dating status, both because she knew that the boy was lonely when it came to female companionship and because she suspected that he wouldn't have a clue how to act around a girlfriend. This other girl…Sue…wound up with the dubious honor of polishing off some of Ron's rougher edges. Kim actually started to show some jealousy, which amused Anne since Kim seemed completely unaware of it. Still, Kim had done the right thing and had offered to speak to Sue, on Ron's behalf, when the other girl decided to break up with Ron.

The next couple of months had been aggravating for the brain surgeon. Despite the fact that both teens were unattached and had grasped the fact that the other was a member of the opposite gender, they still didn't make a move on each other. She had been about to make some very subtle suggestions but then the two came back from a back-country rescue mission, from the very cabin where they now slept. Although she didn't discuss the situation with her daughter one thing had become clear; in her daughter's eyes, Ron had become a potential boyfriend.

If Anne had found the previous couple of months aggravating, she found the next few weeks nerve wracking. Kim was clearly flirting with Ron and Ron was returning the favor. Anne both hoped, and dreaded, catching the two of them making out. While Anne still hoped they would get together, she was scared that if they moved too quickly, they could ruin a potential, lifelong relationship. She had been ready to slap her daughter when Kim started talking about 'statement guys' and 'someone she could be proud to be with'. Still, the entire Eric/Dessie situation had been a learning experience, as had the ice cream session while Ron was in the hospital. It had all led to the two teens entering their dating relationship a little wiser. So far, the dating thing had been wonderful for both teens. Although they had the occasional disagreement, even the occasional fight, they had a very good grip on their feelings.

Now, they had taken another step…maybe. Anne wasn't about to just come out and ask her daughter, she trusted the younger woman to approach her if she needed to talk about something. After thinking things through for a little longer, Anne returned to her bed, deciding to keep a discrete eye on them. After all, subtle snooping was a mother's prerogative.

* * *

By the time evening rolled around, Anne had more suspicions but no clear answers. The brain surgeon was aggravated, charmed, content and frustrated, all at the same time. She was frustrated because she didn't actually know if the two had done…what they might have done. When Kim and Ron piled out of the dump truck earlier that afternoon, (It was no big Mr. Stenler, anybody could have located that fracture line in the granite face!) the two teens had seemed a little more reluctant than usual to separate. However, Anne had to take into account the fact that she might be projecting her own hopes onto her observations. Thus, when the two kissed goodbye, with Ron promising to be back in a couple of hours for the traditional festivities, she might have been imagining the extra tender smile they shared. The two had appeared somewhat fatigued but that didn't really suggest anything as they had covered a great deal of distance and had fought a band of criminals the previous day. Something about their behavior, something that Anne couldn't quite put her finger on, suggested that they had turned a corner…of some sort.

Anne was content because she had her family and close friends gathered around. She dearly loved such gatherings; it was one of the reasons she and James had built their house larger than they really needed for their family. The meal, which Mrs. Stoppable and Ron had helped put together, had been eaten, the gifts had been exchanged and now they simply gathered together, enjoying the companionship. Joss and the twins were off in one corner, under a lamp, installing the radar-guided actuators, which Slim had given his nephews, into one of the boys' previous creations. Anne decided to not think about what was going to come out of that just now. The rest of the room was quite dim, illuminated only by the fireplace, the Christmas Tree's lights and the candles on the mantle. She was also content because she was snuggled up against her husband, enjoying the support and comfort he had given throughout their marriage.

The aggravation came from the fact that Gene Stoppable seemed to know something that she didn't. When the Stoppables arrived, Gene smiled very wide upon seeing Kim. Kim didn't notice, since Ron had just stepped under the mistletoe. Gene had always approved of his son's relationship with Kim and the older man's smile, upon seeing the teens' slow, gentle kiss, threatened to split his face. He was acting differently towards the young couple, which meant that something had changed.

Why couldn't Anne figure out…exactly…what that was?

Finally, she was charmed by the way Kim and Ron were acting. The two were wedged onto a single, over-sized chair with little Hanna sitting halfway on Ron's left thigh and halfway on Kim's right. Ron's arm was around Kim's shoulders and the redhead rested her head on his shoulder. The teens' outside hands were joined over Hanna's tummy. The little girl, who had had a long day running around with Joss and the twins, had fallen asleep several minutes ago. While Anne didn't believe in premonitions, she couldn't miss the very obvious, future implications inherent in the scene. Glancing around, she noticed that her husband and the Stoppables were also beaming at their children.

The Possibles' television suddenly turned on, revealing Wade Lodes face and breaking the idyllic mood.

"Sorry to interrupt," he apologized. "But a Wyoming television station is airing a report on your last mission. Marla Agile is the reporter."

"Oh goodie," Ron grumbled.

"You might as well put it on," Kim sighed. "Let's get it over with."

"…where an unexplained winter storm has paralyzed traffic in this area," the hated newscaster reported from the television as Wade's image disappeared. "Our own staff meteorologist is scratching her head and reporting that this blizzard developed in violation of all logic. However, we have managed to dig up some additional information."

The image changed, showing a hospital employee pushing Summer Gale and the Mathter to a waiting police cruiser.

"The woman you see here is Miss Summer Gale," Marla's voice explained, as police cuffed the two and helped them into the vehicle. "And the man you see is Mr. Calvin Culas. Police have confirmed that they have taken both into custody and have charged them with attempted grand theft and assault, along with several, lesser charges."

"You may wonder why we're showing these two, while reporting the unexpected blizzard." Marla continued, with the scene showing her standing in the hospital's lobby. "Miss Gale is a registered meteorologist who, three years ago, used an experimental machine to generate an unpredictable blizzard over Middleton, Colorado. Mr. Culas is a techno-villain, known as The Mathter, who usually operates in and around Go City, Oklahoma. This man maintains a staff of criminal operatives, know as the coefficients."

"Police are not releasing many details at this time," Marla informed her audience. "But they confirm that this storm stranded a gold shipment, from a nearby mine, in the back country. Rescue crews evacuated the mine's employees and several of the coefficients late last night. Police inform us that they will formally charge Miss Gale, Mr. Culas and their accessories with attempting to steal the gold shipment. According to police, two volunteers confronted the would-be robbers and that Mr. Culas's and Miss Gale's injuries resulted from this confrontation. This brings us the last bit of footage we have for you."

"Here, you can see Kim Possible and her side…er…her assistant, Mr. Ron Stoppable, emerging from the back-country," Marla continued, with the television now showing Kim and Ron rappelling down from the cliff. "We shot this footage shortly before noon today. It wasn't very far from where the volunteers confronted and thwarted The Mathter and his gang."

"At least she remembered my name this time," Ron muttered.

"That might not be a great thing," Kim grumbled back. "If she got it correct for the hatchet job she's about to unleash."

"Hush," Anne instructed them.

"The authorities have stated that neither Miss Possible nor Mr. Stoppable are persons of interest," Marla continued. "And the teens are making no effort to hide, so it's reasonable to conclude that they did not make an effort to rob the gold shipment."

"That's odd," Kim grumbled. "I wonder what she's going to say that we were up to."

"So let's put the pieces together," Marla concluded, as the scene showed the teens climbing into an extended-cab pickup. "A winter storm cropped up suddenly, against all predictions. Miss Gale, who has altered weather in the past, was near the center of this odd phenomenon. In this same area, somebody thwarted a technology-driven criminal, the type that Miss Possible has been known to confront. Finally, Kim Possible herself was in the area during the confrontation. While this is just speculation, it's very likely that Miss Possible learned of this potential crime and moved into a position to prevent it. I'm still speculating but I believe that once Kim Possible evacuated the injured, she and her companion were unable to get clear of the area and took shelter until the storm died down. Now, they are returning home. We won't move in to confront them, since they probably just want to get home and spend the holiday season with relatives and friends. Instead, we'll just take this opportunity to say thank you and hope you have an enjoyable holiday season."

"This is Marla Agile, signing off and wishing everyone a joyous, safe holiday season."

Kim and Ron both sat, stunned, for several minutes. Then they looked at each other with incredulous stares.

Something had changed.

* * *

Something had changed.

This thought dominated Tara's thoughts as she drove back home from the Middleton Mall. Bonnie was in the passenger's seat and the blonde couldn't help but think that the change was for the better. After Bonnie's downfall back in high school, Tara had grown distant from her friend but had leapt at the opportunity to reconnect when the model called. Somewhere, somehow, Bonnie had changed. Where high school Bonnie would have delighted in making derogatory about other people's wardrobes, shoes, appearance or even their stride, this Bonnie was actually friendly, chatting with complete strangers, even when they weren't cute guys.

The after-Christmas sales had been fun and while Bonnie didn't make as much money as a headlining model, Cocoa Banana paid his background models pretty well. Despite the fact that she now had more money than ever before, she was frugal during the shopping spree.

"Modeling isn't a very solid career," she told her blonde friend. "You never know when the next job will come up, so it's a good idea to keep a grip on your spending."

Nevertheless, she _did_ buy lunch. She insisted on the food court, since it gave her the opportunity to spot former classmates. Much to Tara's shock, the brunette actually approached several former lower-tier food chain dwellers and _apologized_ for the way she had treated them. Sure, most of them left with suspicious looks on their faces, but at least Bonnie was trying. Tara, on the other hand, understood the need for discretion. She waited until they were back in her car, heading home, before asking Bonnie about the changes.

"I guess I had to have my ivory tower fall out from under me," Bonnie told her friend. "I had so much handed to me; looks, status and wealth, that I thought the world owed me everything. I had to have everything tore away from me so that I could try to put it back together again, and appreciate it this time. I'm really lucky to have caught the modeling career. A couple of years ago, I wouldn't have put in the work to become better. Now, maybe I can make a go of it. No matter what, I'm not about to start thinking that I'm better than anyone. I heard some general once said that success is how far up you bounce when you hit rock bottom. I've taken that to heart, realized what's really important and now I have a better attitude. "

"That cute boyfriend of yours can't be hurting your attitude," Tara commented, with a sly smile. "Why didn't you bring him home?"

"Oh, Will?" Bonnie frowned for just a moment, remembering that she couldn't tell Tara that she and Will weren't really an item. "He's great," Bonnie answered honestly. "But he wanted to spend some time with the family over the holidays."

"So why didn't you go home with him?"

"We're not there yet," Bonnie told her friend.

"Just where are the two of you?"

"Tara, it's complicated and I'll really be ready to spill everything once the tour's over. Can we talk about it then?"

"Sure," Tara replied, not wanting to spoil the good mood. "Are you going to be at the parade tonight?"

"Don't you know it! Kim said that she'd be outside Cow and Chow with Stoppable. Will you and Josh be there as well?"

"I will," Tara frowned for just a second. "Josh has a cultural exhibit to go to. He's putting the finishing touches on his latest display right now."

"Giving you some time for a girls' day out," Bonnie pointed out.

"That's right!" Tara's smile was back, full force. "He's nice enough but it's good to leave the guys behind now and then."

"I wonder if K's ditched Ron to do some…shop…ing…Hey! Isn't that her car in that parking lot?"

Tara glanced the way Bonnie was pointing. "I think it is," she said. "What's she doing _there_? Kim doesn't seem like much of a jewelry person to me." The blonde girl quickly returned her full attention to the road.

"There she is!" Bonnie spotted her formal rival. "She's walking into the place with Stoppable! Maybe she wasn't satisfied with whatever Ron gave her and she's making him get her something better." The brunette giggled, "I mean, why else would they be going in there to…pick…out…jewelry?"

The two girls suddenly shared a look, guessing just what piece of jewelry their former classmates might be selecting. Bonnie didn't even need to ask Tara to pull into the parking lot. As soon as they were parked Bonnie pulled out a camera, which Cocoa Banana had been kind enough to loan her, and focused the telescopic lens.

"Okay, they're going to the counter," the brunette reported, bracing the camera against the car's body to keep it steady. "The clerk is getting a really big smile."

"That's nothing special," Tara informed her. "Those guys probably work on commission and are really happy to see people come in to buy things. Kim being a celebrity can't hurt things."

"They're talking…" Bonnie continued. "Okay, he's leading them to one of the display cases. Darn! I wish I could see what's in the case! Wait…he's pulling out some sizing rings! Kim's checking for proper ring size!"

"That's still not irrefutable proof!" Tara insisted.

"What's with you and irrefutable proof?" Bonnie demanded.

"Never mind, just keep watching."

"Okay, the clerk just pulled something out of the case and set it on top of the case! C'mon Ron, move a little to your left…there! It's a tray with engagement rings! Wait…wait…they're selecting a couple and Kim's trying one on right now! That's it! They're picking out the ring!"

"_**That's**_ irrefutable proof," Tara declared, in a satisfied tone. Bonnie lowered the camera and turned towards her friend just in time to see the blonde sending a text message.

"What gives?" Bonnie demanded.

"I'm passing this information on to Ron."

"Uh, Tara? I think that Ron is perfectly aware that he and K are picking out a ring."

"Not Ron Stoppable, Ron Reiger. He's the steward for the 'when is Ron going to pop the question' betting pool."

"Betting pool?"

"You probably didn't know about it, since you didn't get along with them in high school. Anyway, Ron…Reiger gets a five percent cut of the pot for stewarding the bet. I'll get a five percent cut for providing irrefutable proof that Ron…Stoppable popped the question. Whoever guessed closest to when Ron popped the question will get the remainder of the pot. In case those two refuse to 'fess up to the exact time and date, today at this time becomes the official proposal date…darn!"

"What's wrong?"

"My guess was off by a good two months! I'm pretty sure someone else is going to be closer than me!"

"Okay, what happens if K popped the question?"

"It doesn't matter, the bet covers the time and date, not who asked who."

"Maybe we better get out of here before they notice us," Bonnie suggested. "This is supposed to be a special time for them and I don't think that they'll appreciate the two of us hovering over them like a pair of vultures."

Tara agreed, put away her cell phone and pulled her car out of the parking lot. Even while doing so, she marveled at the fact that Bonnie, of all people, refused to intrude upon a special time for Kim.

Something had changed.

* * *

Kim happily clung to her (not quite official…yet) fiancé's arm as they left the jewelry store and walked to her car. They had found the perfect ring and, as far as she knew, nobody knew that they had made it official…kind of.

"So KP, when do we tell everyone?" Ron asked.

"New Year's eve," Kim declared. "I made sure that your 'rents invited all of my family over for the celebration. Nana, Slim and Josh aren't heading home until the second. That will give us the chance to catch everyone by surprise."

"Everyone except my dad," Ron corrected. "I had to talk to him to free up the funds for the ring. Ever since I blew that 99 mil, he's been keeping a close eye on my finances. Can you believe that he had already set aside a fund for engagement ring?"

"I think we're going to surprise everyone with the timing, but not the act itself," Kim told him, as they reached her car. "Did you notice how everyone held their breath, last night, when you gave me my gift?" She reluctantly released his arm so that they could climb inside the vehicle.

"Yeah, I noticed," Ron grinned. "Even Rufus was staring. I mean, he was there when I asked the question but he helped me wrap the present, so you think he would have known better."

"Okay, that's something that has me worried," Kim told him. "Where is Rufus, anyway?"

"He stayed at home. He prefers to hang out inside when it's this cold outside. Besides, he has Hanna to keep him company. Is this about him?"

"Yeah, it's about him. Yesterday morning, he was glaring at me. Does he have a problem with us…" she waved her hand a little, prompting Ron to guess what she meant.

"Oh, yeah. He had a few harsh words with me after we got back."

"You mean he doesn't want us to…"

"That's not the problem…exactly," Ron rubbed the back of his neck, like he always did when he was nervous. "Er…it's kind of hard to explain but Rufus is a genius in some ways but in others, he's still just a naked mole rat. It isn't so much that he thinks what we did was wrong…he just doesn't approve of the timing."

Kim's stare clearly told Ron that he wasn't done explaining.

"Okay, last night, after we got back, he wanted to know where we were going to nest the pups."

"The pups?"

"Er…you see, naked mole rats only…mate…for one reason so he assumed we were trying to…"

"Oh…" Kim blushed.

"Yeah, I tried to explain the sitch to him but he couldn't even come to grips with the concept. He understands society and education, so he knows that we're not ready to start a family, so he really didn't understand why we…well, you know."

"Did you explain our…precautions?"

"Yeah and that confused him even worse. To him, it's kind of like trying to breathe just for the fun of it, without actually taking in any air. The whole idea of…recreational intimacy…was just beyond him."

"You said 'couldn't' and 'was beyond', does that mean you managed to explain the sitch to him?"

"Well, yeah. I had to use an example." Ron looked decidedly uncomfortable about the confession.

"Okay, what did you use as an example."

"Er…cheese."

"Cheese?" Kim's tone was decidedly flat.

"I compared…what we did…to when he eats cheese even when he really isn't hungry."

"Cheese?" Kim repeated.

"Look, KP, it was the only thing I could think of!"

"You described our intimacy; the most meaningful, fulfilling and intense moment I've experienced in my life, as recreational dairy-product consumption?"

"It was the best I could come up with!" Ron protested. "I tried the whole bonding explanation but he couldn't understand. He understood us being friends, he understood us kissing and making out, he could even understand us wanting to marry. He just couldn't understand us…without trying to…"

"Okay, I get the picture. It was my fault for asking," Kim let the matter drop, with a pained smile. "We are such the not normal couple, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Other teen couples have to explain themselves to parents and friends. We have to explain our actions to a hairless rodent, who can only understand it in a cheese-eating context."

"Yeah," Ron admitted. "But I finally got through to the little guy…sort of. He'll probably be acting kind of apologetic towards you when you see him again."

"Will he be making the parade with us tonight?"

"Yes, the house will be empty tonight and he hates being alone." Suddenly, his smile returned, "just be ready for him to be giving you some funny looks while he nibbles on his cheese snacks."

* * *

The changes were wonderful!

Avers, formerly known as Avairius, spread his wings in the clear air and swooped over the open meadow, exalting in the feelings of freedom and power. Bottoming out his swoop scant inches above the snow, the mutated criminal streaked across the meadow, whipping the snow into a frenzy in his wake. He angled upwards at the last possible moment, barely clearing the trees on the meadow's far side and driving himself high into the air. Several hundred feet up, he left his wings spread and glided on the thermals rising from the sunlit snow.

From his vantage point, he surveyed the deep, wide valley that he had come to think of as his domain. As long as he stayed below the high ridgelines to both the north and the south, nobody was likely to see him. Even if anybody saw him from several miles away, they would probably mistake him for a large eagle. The nearest neighbor lived over a half-dozen miles away. This man was a recovering alcoholic who would probably refuse to believe his eyes if he saw a flying man, and wouldn't be able to get anyone else to believe him if he tried to report the sighting. No, this was an excellent place for Avers to hone his skills and train his charges.

This thought prompted him to look down to where his swarm of underlings struggled to reach his altitude. Miss Go had initially modified three such monkey/eagle hybrids for him. It took the bird-obsessed criminal several weeks to both learn how to fly and to teach the creatures to obey his commands. Since then, his benefactor had regularly supplied more such underlings, allowing him and his trained charges to train the new recuits, until he now had his flock of almost two dozen creatures. Six of them still weren't well trained and disciplined, but that wouldn't last long; Avers believed in training by demonstrating.

Flapping his wings to gain altitude, he could see where the original three flying monkeys (or mongles, like Miss Go called them) were hanging small, ceramic globes from several low branches. Avers circled a couple of times, making sure that he had his followers' attention, then folded his wings and dove. This exercise was challenging and had caused the birdman to experience a great deal of pain before honing his flying technique. He swooped low once again, approaching a branch with several of the globes. At the last possible moment, he folded his wings, rolled onto his back and passed under the branch, seizing one of the globes. Using a claw to slice the rope holding the globe, he rolled back over and spread his wings, climbing into the sky once again.

It was perfect! If he had pulled out of his dive to early, he would have come in too high and hit the branch. If he had pulled out of his dive too late, he obviously would have hit the ground. His timing with folding his wings and rolling also had to be perfect. If he had missed the rope with his claw, the resulting tug would have thrown him out of control and into the surrounding trees. Finally, if he had squeezed the globe too hard it would have shattered and given him a painful cut. Having proven his mastery, he circled lazily and watched his underlings cue up and follow his lead.

As he expected, about half executed the drill to perfection, joining him in the sky with ceramic globes of their own. The rest suffered various mishaps, which resulted in painful, embarrassing lessons. Avers was actually pleased; just last week he would have been lucky to have two of his underlings join him in the sky. He signaled the original three mongles to reset the globes for another round.

Oh yes! Things had definitely changed.

* * *

_A/N: _

_First of all, I'd like to thank Joe Stoppinghem for his continued Beta work and for coming up with the term 'Mongels' for Amy's Monkey/Eagle hybrids. _

_Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for waiting the extra time for this chapter. I'll try to update when I can but reality is imposing...big time. _

_Finally, the support and feedback I've been getting have been great. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and/or PM'd me. _

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	17. The Year's Last Week

Chapter 17: The Year's Last Week

-----------December 26th--------------------------------------------------------------

"We're underage, but I don't think that a single, small glass of champagne is going to bother either of us."

Monique turned her attention away from the sculpture she was studying to see Josh offering her a small, delicate glass filled with the bubbly liquid.

"Thanks," she said, accepting the offering. She took a small sip while he did the same. "This is nice."

"I'm not a champagne connoisseur but I guess it isn't bad."

"Not the champagne, the exhibit," Monique corrected her host. "I thought I'd see a bunch of paintings but there's a lot more here than I expected."

"Oh…like what?"

"Well, I really like the bands."

"Ensembles," Josh corrected his guest. "The performers will be insulted if they hear you calling them a band."

"Ensemble, band, what's the difference?"

"About thirty percent, when you're trying to hire one for the evening," Josh informed her, which nearly caused her to shoot fine wine out of her nose. "Seriously though, a band is supposed to _be_ the entertainment, playing songs for the audience to dance to or sing along with. An ensemble is supposed to _enhance_ the experience, by augmenting the mood."

"So that's why there's four ban…er…ensembles playing in here?"

"Exactly," Josh smiled. "The exhibit is divided into four, general moods: Joyous, somber, reflective, and tragic. Each area has exhibits that roughly follow that tone and each area has its own ensemble to boost the experience."

"Okay, so why is there only one happy tone and three down tones?"

"We're artists. You can't have good art without angst and misery, can you?" The blonde young man smiled as his companion for the event, once again, struggled to keep her champagne out of her nose."

"I never knew you had such a sense of humor," Monique admitted, once she got her drink to travel the proper direction.

"It's a character flaw," he shrugged. "But seriously, are you enjoying the exhibit?"

"So far, yes but we've only just got here."

"Well then," Josh declared, in a mock grand voice and with an overly dramatic bow. "Let me escort you through the entire exhibit."

Monique thoroughly enjoyed the next two hours. She enjoyed the paintings, drawings and sculptures. She was surprised to see several dancers.

"Interpretive dance," Josh pointed out, quietly. "Most of the performers here will be slightly insulted if you don't make the distiction."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what's the difference?"

"According to them, they project feelings and social commentary through the performance, while a dancer simply entertains. According to them, they are to dancers what I am to a guy who paints a wall."

"I can kind of see it," Monique whispered back. "That little performer out there, she has her face covered and the others are all acting like she isn't even there. It's kind of like being ignored and feeling terribly anonymous."

"That's the idea," Josh nodded. "You _feel_ for the character, you develop empathy for her. It makes viewing the performance a more meaningful experience."

The two teens ended their tour in the 'Joyous' section, where Josh's works were on display.

"I'm not a critic," Monique told her companion. "But I really like these. I don't know if it's the bright colors or the real-life scenes, but I like your work."

"Thanks, I'm just not in to abstract or gloom. Life is great! It has its rough times but for the most part, it's wonderful. I like to show scenes of people just doing every day sort of things and enjoying themselves. I guess it sort of shows through."

"It does," she agreed. "And it really goes well with the lively music and interpretive dance in the area. Everything seems so upbeat."

"That's why I wanted to finish here," Josh told her. "I don't like to leave these exhibits with a bad feeling so I don't finish in one of the other areas."

"That, and you don't have any of your work displayed in those other areas," Monique added, in a sly tone.

"Guilty," Josh confessed, bowing his head with a hand over his heart. "Hey, I'm an artist, I like to show off my work. Are you telling me that you don't like people to see your fashions last, so that the impression you make will stay with them?"

"Just as guilty as you are," Monique giggled. "So tell me, why don't you do angsty and depressed art?"

"I've tried," Josh admitted. "I just can't get into the right mindset. It has sort of held me back a little since all the elite artists seem to be big on misery but I seem to hold my own."

"You just can't seem to follow the trends?"

"It's best to express what you feel and since I enjoy myself, I just can't get into the 'gloom and doom' scene. Do you like to design goth and grunge wear?"

"Not on your life! My fashions are for people who are happy and like to look good!"

"In other words, you want people to show off you fashions."

"Wrong! I want my fashions to show off people but I get your point. You paint and draw the way you feel while I make fashions that compliment people. The two things are kind of similar."

"I've never thought of fashion as art, but you're right. Would you like to meet some of the other artists?"

"Sure."

Josh spent the next hour introducing Monique to his fellow exhibitors. Afterwards, the two teens stopped at the built-in bistro for a latte and a light sandwich.

"I really enjoyed this," Monique told him. "Granted, some of your fellow artists were pompous jerks but most were really okay."

"Just like everyone else," Josh shrugged. "It seems the jerks in the arts community go out of their way to get bad press, but most of us are a pretty mellow bunch." He paused for a moment, "it was really nice to have someone along who enjoyed it as much as I did."

"Tara told me that she really didn't enjoy these things."

"She goes along," Josh mused. "And she smiles and says that she enjoys them, but she really doesn't. She goes along because she knows that they're important to me."

"Sort of like the way you go skating with her?"

"I guess."

"What's her damage with this sort of scene?" Monique asked. "I mean, I can't see why she doesn't just fit right it here."

"She's nice enough but she's simple."

"Hold on there art boy! She might be your girlfriend but I'm not about to sit back and let anybody harsh on my girl!"

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Josh protested. "Look, there's two definitions to the word simple. There's foolish and there's the opposite of complex. Tara's not foolish, she's the opposite of complex."

"So far, that's sounding like a good thing."

"Yeah but these events are full of people who like to be sophisticated. It isn't enough for them to say they're happy or heartbroken, they want to project it and study the reasons in each other. Tara's a lot more basic, if something makes her happy she does it and if it makes her sad she avoids it. If she enjoys something, she invites her friends to join her; she doesn't debate why she's feeling joy, or if she should. If something makes her sad she doesn't try to determine how it affects the human condition."

"Meaning," Monique prompted.

"Meaning that she just doesn't feel all that comfortable at these events, much like I don't feel all that comfortable doing some of the things she enjoys."

"What kinds of things?"

"Rock climbing, in-line skating, snowboarding," Josh ticked off on his fingers. "Can you believe that she's into skeet shooting?"

"Tara-girl likes popping off a few rounds?"

"She's darn good at it," Josh answered. Then, with a slight rub to his right shoulder added, "she uses a 12 gauge. I don't exactly have the muscle to deal with the recoil."

"She dragged you along for that?" Monique's eyes and mouth were wide open.

"Once, on the twenty-third. I spent the afternoon standing in a cold field alternately watching her blast clay pigeons and having her shotgun try to take my shoulder off when I _tried_ to hit them, myself. Not to mention I don't even own a good pair of boots so my feet got cold. It was the first time I ever did that and it will be the last time." He shook his head again. "Anyway, we're not always comfortable doing the same things."

"Okay, so she's straightforward and this bunch is a little more roundabout. I still don't see why she doesn't go for this kind of scene."

"A lot of the artists here aren't exactly friendly to the simple, straightforward type of personality," Josh sighed. "I guess every profession likes to look down its collective nose at outsiders. I mean, medical doctors can act arrogant towards non-medical doctors; physicists can act arrogant towards-non physicists and so on. Tara is about as close to the anti-angsty, complex sort that you can get. She's usually happy and likes everyone around her to be happy. She just can't grasp why anyone wants to be moody and complicated when they don't have to be."

"So, she doesn't fit in?"

"And a lot of the people here make sure that she feels unwelcome. I was actually glad when she spoke up and said she didn't want to make the scene." Josh snorted out a small laugh. "You should have seen it the first time we attended an exhibit and had a bit of refreshment, like this, afterwards. Tara's idea of refreshment is a thick cheeseburger. Almost everyone around us was scandalized at the idea of grilled food. When the bistro host asked her why anyone would want anything grilled, she answered honestly: because it tastes good."

"I'm really wild about Tara," Josh concluded. "But there's times that she really doesn't fit in with my scene…and I worry about it at times."

* * *

Bonnie and Tara stood on the side of the street, sharing a blanket as they watched the parade pass by. Tara had dubbed the covering the 'spinsters blanket', since neither girl had her boyfriend available. Much to the blonde's shock, Bonnie had laughed long and hard at the joke. Since when had she indulged in self-depreciating humor?

Tara wished that Josh were with her, even if he didn't really enjoy the parade and even if it would have left Bonnie bundled up alone. She stole yet another wistful glance at the two couples nearby.

Kim and Ron were snuggled up very affectionately, with Kim standing in front of, and leaning back into, Ron. While this pose didn't surprise Tara and Bonnie, the two girls were surprised to see that little Hanna was with Kim and Ron. The toddler was enjoying herself immensely; sitting on Ron's shoulders to wave at the people on the floats and try to catch the candy they invariably tossed to the cute little girl. Every once in awhile, she would scramble off of her brother's shoulders and into Kim's arms, to warm up under the blanket. When she did so, Rufus appeared and took his accustomed spot on Ron's shoulder.

Tara thought that the scene was absolutely adorable but she was a little disappointed. While Kim exposed her hands every time Hanna crawled into her arms, she was wearing mittens so neither Tara nor Bonnie could see if the redhead was wearing an engagement ring, or if she was wearing her promise ring on her right hand.

Kim's brothers were every bit as rambunctious and embarrassing as Bonnie recalled from when she and Kim were stuck together. Early in the parade the twins, along with their cousin from Montana, extorted the riders on every float to "throw candy…throw candy!". Finally, one of the riders got tired of the haranguing and, during a pause, hopped off of her float and handed all three youngsters some candy. The poor woman hadn't even gotten back to the float before the three started shouting; "throw _good_ candy…throw _good_ candy!".

Bonnie laughed along with everyone else nearby while Kim and her parents, who were just far enough away to give their kids the illusion that they were there on their own but close enough to move in, in case of trouble, face-palmed.

The other teen couple, Oscar and Cindy, was also sharing a blanket but they stood side-by-side. The reason was quite simple; the cheerleader and cross-country runner was about an inch taller than her boyfriend. If the two were to 'vertical spoon', like Kim and Ron, Oscar wouldn't be able to see the parade. While Tara had no doubt that Kim and Ron were enjoying the snuggle more than the parade, they liked watching the floats and bands every once in awhile. Looking at her friends, Tara couldn't hold back a sorrowful sigh.

"Missing your boyfriend?" Bonnie asked. Bundled under the same blanket, the brunette couldn't help but notice the sigh.

"Yeah," Tara admitted. "I know that Josh really doesn't enjoy these things very much but I wish he was here. I'm sorry if I'm not being a very good friend right now."

"Tara, if you think I'm upset that you'd rather be under this blanket with your BF than with me, I'm not concerned. I'd be concerned if it went the other way." Bonnie punctuated her statement with a smirk and an eyebrow waggle.

"Bonnie!" Tara couldn't help but grin at the joke. "It isn't that he doesn't try but I can tell that he really doesn't enjoy things like this."

"What's his issue?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious that the local businesses and organizations cobbled these floats together in their spare time. They look amateurish but to me, that's part of the charm. Josh doesn't think that way; for him it's either do it with style or don't do it at all. Then there's the cold."

"Can't you cuddle him warm?"

"Of course I can," Tara objected; all mock indignity. "He still doesn't like being cold. He says that people invented central heating and television so that he wouldn't have to shiver. He prefers to watch cold weather parades on the television, on the couch, with a cup of hot cocoa on one side and a bowl of popcorn on the other. Me, I like getting out and mingling, even if it's cold."

"Still, you sort of gave Monique the okay to go with Josh, what do you have against that exhibit that they're at?"

"I really don't like the people there," Tara admitted. "I mean, most of them are okay but some of them really look down their noses at me because I'm not one of the," here, she used finger quotes. "Creative people. The last time it was bad enough to begin with, then one of the dancers found out that I'm a cheerleader."

"Why would she have a problem with your cheerleading?"

"It was a he and he seemed to think that cheerleading was to his 'visual presentation' like gargling was to opera singing." Tara shook her head while grinding her teeth. "Then I was foolish enough to try to argue with him, rationally. I tried to explain the teamwork, focus and crowd control aspects. He just called it blatant sexual objectifying. Like I said, most of the crowd is nice enough but it just isn't somewhere that I really fit in."

"So you're cool letting Josh go with Monique?"

"If she enjoys it, why shouldn't she go? I'll be getting together with Josh when it's over. We might not always see things the same way, but I'm still crazy about him." Suddenly, Tara paused for a moment. "Bonnie?" She asked. "Am I imagining things or is Rufus giggling at Kim every time he eats a cheese snack?"

Miss Go recognized the Possible twins' voices from her place on the Middleton High float. Even though she had only taken her job to get close to Hanna Stoppable, she enjoyed teaching the Possible boys. She quickly spotted her favorite students and nearby, her quarry. She didn't have to fake her smile when she saw little Hanna with Kim and Ron. It was a very heartwarming scene, which made her pause for a moment.

"Is something wrong, Miss Go?" Steve Barkin, who was next to her, asked. The big man picked up his treat-tossing pace to make up for his companion's lull.

"No, I…just saw something that caught my eye," she admitted. She tossed a box of raisins, hard, at the twins. Of course, they dodged it and taunted her to try again.

"Possible and Stoppable make a cute couple," Barkin commented, as the float's slow pace carried the educators past the teen heroes.

"That they do," she admitted. Miss Go looked at the smiling Hanna and started to have second thoughts. The infant was so happy! For the first time, Miss Go considered the implications of what she was planning.

She was going to tear a child from a loving, supportive home. Was she really that ruthless? Could she really do that to a child? Come to think of it, she really enjoyed her life here in Middleton. Sure, some of the students were pains but most of them were impressionable youngsters who were eager to learn what she was teaching. She had established a respectable, comfortable existence here.

Why not just settle in and truly become Miss Go? Maybe find a husband and have a child of her own. She quickly spotted Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable in the crowd. The two of them clearly enjoyed their family so why couldn't she follow suit? The notion tugged at her, making her wonder why she wanted world-dominating power in the first place. Then her ankle gave a slight twinge.

The same ankle that Ron Stoppable had severed.

In a moment, other memories filled her mind: Montgomery Fiske betraying her and…that hussy…taunting her on her own Wyoming ranch. She remembered Ron Stoppable maiming and killing her own, beloved Warrick Loward. She looked back towards the teen heroes, her tormentors, with new determination.

She would _not_ become a part of the world that had shunned and despised her! She would gain the power to crush the world, no matter the cost. Hanna Stoppable and Shego's still-unborn child would become her pawns, no matter who she had to crush to get them.

-----------------------------December 31st-----------------------------------------

Kim tried to settle the butterflies in her stomach as she checked herself in the Stoppables' bathroom mirror, making sure that there were no tear tracks on her face. She was neither upset nor sad; far from it! Her own family had decided to give her the house to host her own New Year's Eve party, while they spent the evening with the Stoppables. She and Ron would watch the big ball lower in Times Square at the Stoppables, before going to her home, where they would meet with their friends and welcome the new year at midnight, local time. The upcoming party wasn't what had her all jittery.

Earlier that day, Ron had made a covert visit to the jeweler's shop. A few minutes ago, the two teens slipped into his room where the young, blonde man dropped to his knee and placed the ring he had brought home upon his (now official) fiancé's finger. For all the fact that she knew this was going to happen, for all the fact that she was so looking forward to it, Kim found herself overcome with emotion.

After several minutes of holding and kissing, (while regretting the fact that the families were downstairs, Kim had some ideas about properly celebrating this moment) she excused herself to visit the bathroom and make herself presentable for the 'rents.

"KP, are you okay?" Ron's voice, preceded by a gentle knock, interrupted her thoughts.

"So more than okay," she answered, opening the door and stepping into his embrace. "It's just so amazing that we're actually at this point. It seems like it was just last week that we were walking to our first day of high school together."

"Yeah, well we have about the same length of time before I put a different ring on that finger. I hope the next four years go by as fast as the last four."

"So do I," she murmured. "Well, it's almost ten and the ball's about to drop in New York. What say we go downstairs and break the news?"

"You sure we aren't going to make anyone faint? I mean, my dad knows that I bought the ring but it could come to a shock to everyone else. Your dad might want to put me on a deep space probe for not asking him first and your nana…"

"My nana will be fine," she whispered back, since they had reached the top of the stairs. "She's been looking forward to this for a long time. If my 'rents haven't figured out that this was about to happen…well, let's just say that all the stereotypes about brain surgeons and rocket scientists are way wrong. The only one I don't know about is Miss Go."

"It's weird that she's here," Ron murmured, looking down to where the Shego look-alike was talking with Dr. Renton. "You'd think that she'd have a date for New Year's Eve."

"She's new in town," Kim shrugged. "And your 'rents are really friendly. She likes it here."

"I don't know. Somehow, I get a really bad feeling whenever I'm around her. Have you noticed that Hanna won't let her pick her up?"

"Hanna doesn't warm to just anyone and as for your bad feelings, you're just remembering Shego. Relax! There's nothing to worry about."

"So says the person who didn't believe me when I said that Gill was up to no good at Gottagrin."

"This is different."

"How so?"

"I had Wade run a background check. She just happens to look a lot like Shego."

"Okay, in that case…"

"Well thar's the two lovebirds!" Slim's voice called from the Stoppables' living room. "We were 'bout to come look for y'all. Now, since the big ball's about to drop, why don't y'all indulge in the tradition b'fore y' run off t' yer own party?"

Kim noticed the countdown starting on the Stoppables' television. This wasn't how she had pictured and planned this moment…this was much better. She quickly spun Ron around so that they were face to face, with her left side facing the gathered families in the living room. As the countdown reached zero, she pulled Ron in for a kiss, deliberately cupping the right side of his face with her left hand.

For a few moments, nobody noticed her new jewelry then…

"Oh, my!" Nana exclaimed. "Kimberly, is one of my grandchildren finally engaged?" Kim could only nod.

"Well, get on down here so we can gush over the two of ye'," Slim told the two.

The two teens barely got their feet off of the steps before they were deluged with a barrage of questions: Who proposed to whom? When did Ron (or Kim) propose? When were they going to tie the knot? Where were they going to live?

When the teens told their audience that Ron had proposed on Christmas Day, the parents immediately chided them, gently and falsely, for not telling them sooner. When Kim and Ron informed their families that they wanted to get married after getting their bachelor's degrees, Nana was a little disappointed.

"I was hoping to be a great grandmother soon," she teased her granddaughter. "Now I have to wait another four years."

"Nana!" Kim protested. "We aren't ready to start a family yet! We're planning on waiting a few years after we get married before we try."

"I'm just having some fun, dear," Nana told her. The older woman was aware of Kim's potential problems in that regard. "You walk down the isle and have children when you decide. Just keep in mind that I want to see the next generation and since my oldest son decided to wait so long to give me a grandchild…"

"It took me a while t' find the right woman, ma!" Slim protested.

"You're my best hope of managing it," the elder Possible continued, ignoring her oldest son. "Besides, your parents and Ronald's parents are looking forward to seeing who can spoil their grandkids the best."

"Mom, I'm just getting my head around the fact that they're going to get married," James gasped. "I'm not ready to be a grandfather yet!"

"Oh, you!" Nana gave her son a dismissive wave. "Once these two walk down the aisle you're going to be pestering them for grandkids within half of a year. Now, why don't we give them one last fussing over so they can get on to their own party and leave us to heckle Gene here?"

"Me," Gene Stoppable protested. "Why me?"

"Because Ronald says that you gave him access to the funds for the ring," Nana explained to him. "That means that you knew, late on Christmas Day, that these two had chosen to get married and you didn't tell us about it."

"Ronald asked me to keep it a secret!"

"I'm sure he did, but you're at least supposed to tell your own wife!" Jean interrupted.

"Or his prospective in-laws," James added.

"Why don't you go on and start your young persons' party?" Nana repeated. "We're going to be giving Ronald's father a great deal of grief for some time yet."

Giggling, the two teens grabbed their coats and headed towards the door. Miss Go intercepted them just before they left the house.

"I guess I get to be the faculty member that breaks the news to the rest. Middleton High's favorite couple is going to tie the knot. You look good together."

"Thanks," Ron told her. Then, with great effort, he put his prejudice behind him. "I haven't exactly been nice to you. I hope that you can understand that it's because you look so much like…"

"I understand," the brunette teacher assured him. "Your parents are really nice people. I'm lucky to live just down the street."

"Well, we have to get going," Kim interrupted. "It's been nice to meet you. I really hope that the tweebs aren't driving you too insane in the classroom."

"Are you kidding? They're a joy to teach! I wish all my students were so bright and enthusiastic."

"Bright and enthusiastic is a fine line from devious and aggravating," Kim countered. "But still, it was nice to meet you."

"Get on to your party. If I were your age, I'd want to be with other teens, not with boring older people."

Kim and Ron didn't need further prompting. They said polite goodbyes and hurried to the Possible home, where they would host their friends. Miss Go closed the door behind them. Seeing that Hanna had just gotten out of bed and ambled into the living room, the teacher walked over to pick up the little girl. As was usual, the little girl scrambled away from her and to her mother.

"I'm so sorry," Jean Stoppable apologized, picking up and comforting her daughter. "Hanna just doesn't seem to want to warm to you."

"Don't worry," Miss Go smiled back. "I have a feeling that she and I will have plenty of time to get to know each other."

* * *

"Happy New Year!" The assembled teens shouted. Midnight and a new year descended upon Middleton two hours after New York. Kim had carefully positioned herself and her fiancé in a pose similar to the one they had been in back at the Stoppables'. Again, she indulged in the traditional kiss to start the new year, cupping Ron's face with her left hand. Bonnie, who didn't have anyone to kiss, spotted the new jewelry.

"Well K, I guess it's official," the brunette drawled, which called everyone's attention to her new status.

The rest of the guests quickly gathered around the (relatively) newly engaged couple to offer congratulations and to subject them to the same battery of questions that the family had, a couple of hours ago. Kim didn't understand why Tara insisted on finding out exactly when, at least as accurately as Kim and Ron could recall, Ron had popped the question. The redhead couldn't pursue her suspicions, since Monique seized her left hand and subjected the ring to an intense inspection. Wade appeared on the television screen, interrupting the festivities.

"There isn't anything happening," he assured the assembled teens. "I just wanted to wish everyone a Happy New Year and ask if you've made your change of status official yet."

"Did you tell him?" Kim and Ron asked each other, at the same time.

"Nobody had to tell me," Wade assured them. "I keep an eye on your finances, to make sure that nobody's trying to rob you. When I spotted the amount withdrawn, when it was withdrawn and where it went, I drew my own conclusions."

"You concluded correct, my friend," Ron informed him, while Kim held her hand up for him to check out the ring.

"Congratulations! By the way, who won the bet?"

"What bet?"

"The 'when will Ron pop the question bet'," Tara interrupted. "It was Justine Flanner. She guessed within sixty hours of the exact time. I just finished exchanging some texts with Ron Rieger."

"Did everyone but me know about this bet?" Bonnie grumbled.

"It's amazing what you miss when you're in an ivory tower, with your nose in the air and a corncob up your…" Cindy snarled at the model, only to have her boyfriend interrupt her.

"Cindy!" He gasped. "There's no need for that!"

"There was no need for the grief she put on you, either!" She snarled back. "There was no need for all the crap she gave Ron and Kim, but she did anyway. How many times did she call you a low-budget import? How many times did she call Ron a loser? How many times were you so frustrated you were ready blow a gasket?" Cindy turned to glare at Bonnie. "Maybe you really _have_ changed, maybe you're ready to start being nice to people but you haven't convinced me yet! I'm not…"

Oscar gently led his girlfriend out of the living room and towards the Possibles' kitchen. Bonnie stared at the floor, her lower lip quivering. "Maybe I should go," she murmured to Kim.

"No," the redhead insisted. "I invited you over and I'm not going to ask you to leave. I don't know why Cindy's so mad but I'm…"

"I know," Bonnie interrupted. "Kim, it's really nice of you and Ron to just put all the nasty things I've said behind you but not everyone can be that forgiving. Oscar can forgive me for the things I said about him but Cindy isn't ready to let go of the things I said about him." The brunette snorted out a bitter laugh. "She could forgive me if I made remarks about her, but she can't forgive me for what I said about him. It's something I've done and I have to deal with it. Maybe I should go so you can enjoy the evening with her."

"No," Kim repeated. "I invited you, so I'm not going to ask you to leave."

"Okay," Bonnie nodded. "But I'm not going to stay if Cindy can't come to grips with me being here."

"Fair enough."

"So Wade," Tara chimed in, trying to break the tension. "How close was your guess?"

"I didn't enter the contest," Wade shrugged. "I figured it would be unethical of me, since I had so much inside information about these two. I did make a prediction but Justine still would have beat me by two hours. That's interesting; I might have to ask her how she arrived at her prediction."

"You mean you wrote up some sort of computer program to guess when I was going to propose?" Ron demanded.

"Of course, doesn't everybody?"

"No!" The entire room chorused at him.

"Hey, the bet's over," Josh pointed out. "And the congratulations have been offered and accepted. Now it's on to the next bet! What say we set up a 'when will Oscar propose to Cindy' pool?"

"Why those two?" Mat asked.

"Because they aren't here to protest us betting on them."

"That's a very good reason," Mat nodded. "I say he'll pop the question next summer. Now, how do we go about forming the betting pool?"

"First we get a steward for the bet," Tara told him. "Someone who holds the money and monitors the vict…er…the subjects."

"I can do that," Wade offered.

"Great! After that, we establish the guidelines for victory and a tiebreaker. I suggest we place bets on the date of the proposal and use the wedding date as the tiebreaker."

"Uh, Tara?" Monique interrupted. "Are you, by any chance, planning on working for a lottery commission somewhere?"

"Hush you! After that, we let everyone we know about the bet and invite them to join in the pool…"

Kim smiled, noticing that Bonnie was relaxing a little. The assembled teens joked and kidded each other for almost an hour, until the arriving Possible adults signaled the party's end.

"I'm not ready to forgive you just yet," Cindy told Bonnie, as the future journalist and her boyfriend left. "Maybe you really _have_ learned; maybe you really _have_ changed but you haven't proven it to me yet. If you manage to prove it to me, I'll apologize for tonight but if you haven't, if this is some elaborate game to mess with us some more, I'll find a way to get you back,"

Bonnie could only nod.

"I really hope you're not playing us," Cindy continued. "Now that you're moving up the model ranks, you'll really be in a position to let the rumors fly. Oscar here was raised to forgive and forget; he was raised to never hit a girl and that also means not fighting back when a girl unleashes rumors and outright lies. I'm not that way."

"I know," Bonnie whispered.

Cindy glared at the former social queen for another moment or two, the spun around and led her boyfriend to her car.

"I'm sorry Bonnie," Kim approached her former rival.

"Don't be," the brunette insisted. She sniffed back a tear and continued. "I've been pretty lucky when it comes to making my changes; I've gotten a good job and gotten away from my sisters. Most of the people I wronged in the past are ready to forget and move on. I'd be an idiot to expect everyone to just let things drop." Then, the brunette rallied and smiled, "It's a new year Kim. Let's see what pans out."

"It's going to be really hard for this one to beat the last one," Kim replied, looking at her ring. "At least for me."

* * *

_A/N: I hate to repeat myself, but with reality imposing more and more, I'll be finding it harder to keep on my weekly update schedule. I'm glad that I was able to find the time to write this chapter and post it at my usual time. I hope you enjoyed it. _

_Again, I'd like to thank everyone who has seen fit to make comments and suggestions. The feedback and support makes it easier to keep writing._

_Third, my fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his continued beta work. _

_Finally; and on a more serious note, two members of our Kimmunity have experienced some serious medical problems recently. Please keep CPNEB and Screaming Phoenix in your thoughts and prayers._

_Until my next update they, and the rest of you, have my best wishes:_

_daccu65_

20


	18. Back to the Grind

Chapter 18: Back to the Grind.

"Miss Go?" Jim Possible asked, as he and his brother stepped into the Middleton High classroom.

"We finished our extra credit assignment," Tim declared, walking in behind Jim.

"Oh?" The young woman was pleasantly surprised. "What are your results?"

"The source moves, but it spends most of its time in and around Huehuetenango." Tim continued.

"Where?"

"It's a highland city in Western Guatemala," Jim explained. "The source will occasionally move to other points in Guatemala, and even into Mexico and El Salvador on rare occasions."

"But the source spends over sixty percent of the time in Huehuetenango's outskirts." Tim explained.

"We recorded it all on a CD," Jim concluded, handing over the device. "This catalogs the source's movements for the last two weeks."

"Outstanding boys," Miss Go complimented the two. "Did the two of you try to get some images of the source?"

"The satellite you gave us access to didn't have imaging capability," they protested.

"That's not the question I asked the two of you," she reminded them, with a very stern look. "I know you're perfectly capable of 'borrowing' some satellite run time…without the satellite's owner knowing about it."

"We didn't have time," Jim grumbled.

"Between our mom's 'fresh air and exercise are good for you' kick, the company we had over the holidays and Kim and Ron getting engaged (here, the two boys gagged) we didn't have time to pira…er…acquire some run time." Tim told her.

"But we can get some pictures, if you want us to," Jim added, in a hopeful tone.

"NO!" Miss Go snapped, then quickly regained her composure. "I have an…associate…who's carrying the source radiation around," she explained, thinking quickly. "And I promised him anonymity. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't look him up."

"Oh, that's fine," Tim assured her.

"We really haven't felt like borrowing imaging time since we spied…I mean, we saw Kim's last date.

"You did very good work," Miss Go assured them. "I'll never let your sister know that you watched her dates. Now, why don't you get on to class? You don't want to be late for the year's first class."

"On our way," they chorused, before dashing off to continue their formal education.

Miss Go didn't have enough time to review their report just then, so she locked the CD in her desk. It was just as well, since it wouldn't do for one of her students, or Steve Barkin, to see what she was reviewing. As soon as her duties were done for the day, she rushed home to review her new information.

The twins were nothing, if not thorough. Once they had isolated the source, they had carefully catalogued its movement, trends and wattage changes. They had also written some conclusions. The source spent most of the daylight hours in a sparsely populated neighborhood in Huehuetenango's outskirts. During this time, the source tended to emit a lower frequency and wattage; except for an occasional surge. Shortly before nightfall, the source usually moved into the city and usually to the same location. At this time, the source emitted both a higher frequency and wattage and occasionally left the city on wide-ranging journeys. Around sunup, the source returned to the neighborhood.

"So what are you up to, Shego?" She murmured to herself. Miss Go logged onto the internet and called up some maps and aerial pictures and plotted Shego's travels upon them. Go quickly came to the conclusion that Shego's daytime location must be her home and that her most frequent nighttime locale must be her place of employment. For a moment, the educator wondered why the mercenary's days were swapped then came to an obvious conclusion; Shego was involved in some sort of criminal enterprise that operated at night.

Taking a closer look at the home, Miss Go concluded that Shego's activities must pay fairly well. The property appeared to be relatively large and well maintained. There appeared to be a small stream, with a pond, and three buildings. One of the buildings appeared to be a comfortable home, another appeared to be a vehicle garage and Miss Go couldn't even guess what role the final building filled.

"Still, you've put in some time to build up and maintain this property," Miss Go murmured to her absent and unaware target. "That infers that you're putting down roots. A very unwise action for a mercenary."

Her own words brought Miss Go up short. While she despised Shego, she had to admit that the hussy was a realist. The desire to establish a niche within a community, even if it was a criminal community, wasn't her style. That suggested someone who considered status to be important and _**that**_ suggested Monty.

"So the two of you are still together," she murmured. "So much the better; I get my genetic stock and Avers gets his revenge."

Go's smile quickly faded into a frown. While she had located…at least theoretically…her second target, she now had to consider how to go about acquiring it. When she had decided to seize both Hanna and Shego's child, she had assumed that she would eventually find the mercenary within the United States. Now, however, she was confronted with two targets over a thousand miles apart.

She was still determined to seize both at the same time. While she didn't have much respect for Global Justice and other international law-enforcement agencies, she didn't believe in taking chances. If she grabbed one target, someone out there might figure out what was up and safeguard the other one. Avers was capable and she had incorporated more than a few surprises into her current body but she was nowhere near ready to openly face a law enforcement agency, Team Possible or Team Go. Like the capable scientist she was, she broke down the problem into its components.

The first issue was simultaneously striking at widely separated targets. In order to do so, she would have to have assets at both locations when the time came to acquire her targets. Ron Stoppable was the determining factor for seizing Hanna; Miss Go had no intention of dealing with either him or Kim Possible, so she could only grab Hanna if Team Possible was out of the picture. Eventually, the 'save the world' lifestyle would put the teens on the far side of the world and the friendship she had cultivated with the Stoppables would let her know when this occured. Since she had no such limitation to overcome in order to grab Shego's child, it made sense to move Avers into position, so he would be ready to move when the opportunity to acquire Hanna presented itself. While the plan made sense, moving an altered human and a band of mongels across international borders might prove more problematical. Still, she was sure she could do it.

Back when she answered to DNAmy, she had gained a reputation of being empty-headed and emotional. While the label 'emotional' had been correct, she had been far from empty headed. Not only had she been a ground breaking geneticist, she had been an accomplished criminal. As such, she had tapped into an extensive, illegal network of suppliers, informants and customers. Since it wasn't wise to leave these people's phone numbers, addresses and other contact information just lying around in an address book, she had memorized them. She had learned still more contacts during her time as Warmonga and now, as Miss Go, she retained this knowledge. While most of her 'suppliers' were concerned about smuggling various expensive things into the country, she had no doubt that, for the right price, they'd be willing to smuggle things out.

Next, she needed a place to for Avers and his team to stay. For a moment, she was tempted to move him into her old Belizian lab, but quickly discarded the idea. While she knew that the building was both empty and available for rent, acquiring it would draw too much of the wrong kind of attention. Law-enforcement agencies tended to look carefully at anyone wanting to utilize facilities used for criminal activities and Global Justice or Interpol might figure things out. No, this called for property that she had never seen before and that meant dealing with the same underground businessmen she had dealt with for years.

Her west-coast narcotics ring gave her the money she needed to both smuggle her assets out and to acquire discreet housing for them. It was only a matter arranging both transportation and housing. She quickly phoned a couple of contacts, preparing to meet with them and make her requests. These men were trustworthy…at least to their cash. It might take some time but in a few weeks, she would find both a place in Guatemala to keep Avers and a means of getting him there.

In the meantime, she scheduled a satellite to take several aerial photos of the property, at various times during the day. She wanted to find out the type of car, or cars, her targets utilized and get a better feel for their schedule. She wanted to find out just how much the neighbors socialized with the target and how much traffic was normal for the neighborhood. She also decided to share her information with Avers. After all, he had a great deal of experience both fighting Shego and making sudden, violent thefts.

Miss Go smiled. It was good to have a plan in motion.

* * *

"Marla Agile," Marla answered her phone.

"Your voice sounds a lot less bitter than the last time I heard it," a familiar voice informed her.

"Warren!" she was actually happy to hear from him. "I was hoping to hear from you before too much longer."

"The wonders of cell phones," she could hear the amusement in his voice. "I don't have to know where you are to call you. Where are you right now?

"South-central Wyoming," she answered. "I'm covering deer population monitoring. My current office consists of the same storage space we've rented for our equipment. My desk consists of a plank set on a couple of bricks but I'm getting the job done. I take it you're happy with my latest report."

"Yes, at least for now."

"Do you honestly think I'm going to go back to being Rita's little attack dog? She tried to reenlist me late last year and I said no."

"I'm not concerned with Rita, I'm concerned with you."

"Concerned? You should be delighted! I supported Team Possible, in case you didn't notice!"

"I noticed that and yes, you did a good job. I just want to discuss what happens if and when Team Possible crosses the line and abuses their status."

"I thought that they were your heroes! I thought that they could do no wrong!"

"They are perfectly capable of doing wrong," he corrected her. "Just like everyone is capable of doing wrong. Now, they do a great job helping people but they are perfectly capable of abusing the good name they've developed. They're very similar to popular entertainers and athletes in that regard. There are certain perks, gifts and preferential treatment that they'll receive. They also receive very positive press and that's alright…at least as long as they deserve it."

Marla heard the man who wanted to be her mentor sigh on the phone. "Marla, it's almost as harmful to those young people to receive undeserved good press as it is to receive undeserved bad press."

"How is that possible?"

"To put it in layman's, but polite terms, it means that a young person can easily come to the conclusion that his or her own waste matter isn't odiferous. Let's look at a few examples. First, let's say that Team Possible rescues a stranded, young couple from a snowbound cabin. Two years later, they find themselves stranded in the same area and the cabin's owner, out of gratitude, allows them to stay in that cabin, free of charge, until they can leave. Would you say that they've done anything questionable?"

"No," Marla answered. "And isn't that exactly what just happened?"

"Yes. Next example; they hear that a young woman has been kidnapped and will probably be subjected to experimentation and torture. This young woman is wanted for several, non-violent felonies and misdemeanors, so her father-in-law is reluctant to tell the local law enforcement officials where he suspects she is imprisoned. In addition, the officials won't have probable cause to search, anyway. The father-in-law contacts Team Possible, who decides that the woman doesn't deserve to be tortured, and rescues her. Do you think that they stepped over a moral boundary?"

"No," Marla informed him. "And isn't that what they did last summer, in Europe?"

"Yes but now we add something more. The father-in-law, out of gratitude, purchases some property, which allows Kim and Ron to attend their chosen university and partake in other university activities. While this seems fine at first glance, the father-in-law is a criminal himself so Team Possible probably benefited from his criminal activities."

"That's sort of toeing the line," Marla told him.

"Which is why it's a good thing it came up on my live question and answer session. Kim and Ron were forced to take a very close look at their own activities. This will make them a little more selective about what favors they accept, and from whom. This is, in the long run, a good thing for them."

"So now I'm supposed to slap them down? Warren, you're confusing me!"

"No, you don't slap them down and you don't build them up. You do what you did on Christmas Day; you report the facts, make logical conjectures and let the public draw its own conclusions. While you're going to tilt your coverage to a minor degree, we're only human and our preconceived notions will find their way into our reporting, you make it as unbiased as you can."

"I can't believe that it's that simple," Marla scoffed.

"That doesn't mean that you don't make the coverage interesting. You just don't make wild, unsubstantiated claims and you don't choose to not report items that don't fit the coverage you want to present you audience."

"And if my coverage has a negative tone?" She prompted.

"It's perfectly fine, as long as you support and justify your allegations. When you were reporting for Rita, you weren't indulging in bad reporting because you were showing Kim and Ron in a bad light, it was the fact that you made powerful, specific allegations, without any supporting evidence, that made your journalism junk. The biggest indicator was that you edited interviews and other materials to fit your story, rather than fitting your story around the evidence. That's why you came out looking so bad when I aired my live show; you had set yourself up for a fall."

"Why is this so important to you? I know you're serious about journalistic integrity and I appreciate you trying to help me, but why are you working so hard to…convert me?"

"Marla, I'm going to say something incredibly corny, but I believe it. We in the media, as much as soldiers and police, guard our liberties."

"What!"

"Think about it! We mold and direct public opinion. If we vilify some company in Illinois, people in Oregon aren't going to travel all the way across the country to see for themselves if we're telling the truth, they're going to read and watch what we present to them. If we praise some social organization, while ignoring its darker aspects, most people won't be able to take the time to investigate it themselves. It's up to us to tell people the truth, so that they can make their own decisions about causes, people and companies."

"I think you're crediting me with a lot more power than I really have," Marla pointed out.

"I'm talking about the profession in general, not us individuals within it. You and Rita managed to generate some pretty good ratings by vilifying Kim Possible but, in the long run, you really didn't do her any harm. Plenty of other news outlets were reporting Kim's activities in either a positive or an unbiased light. However, if all of the news outlets had produced negative and unsubstantiated stories about Kim and Ron, they might not have been able to continue their charitable activities."

"Do you really think they pay that much attention to what we say?" Marla asked. "I don't think those teens really care what we're saying about them."

"They might not, but their benefactors probably do. Imagine what would have happened if the people who help them with rides, lodging and equipment were to drop their support, for fear of being tainted by association. Just a couple of weeks ago, the Mathter tried to steal that gold shipment. What if nobody had given Team Possible a ride into the area, because of all the bad press they were getting? What would the Mathter be doing, right now, with that wealth to fund him? The fact is that public support, acceptance, or even tolerance has a very strong impact on Team Possible. That's why it's so important for those of us who report on their activities to do so honestly."

"I've heard a saying that goes something to the effect of 'when scientists become politicized, we're all doomed'," Warren continued. "And that's probably true. However, we're in even bigger trouble if the reporters and comedians become politicized. When a reporter decides to ignore a businessman's environmental misdeeds because his business supports the local economy, if a cartoonist doesn't lampoon a politician's bizarre statements because of the politician's party, or if a standup comedian refuses to poke fun of a religious leader's outlandish claims, we're in big trouble. We're not comedians…at least not intentionally, so the only thing we can do is report everything we decide to cover as honestly and completely as we possibly can."

"I guess the world needs its boy scouts," Marla quipped. "And yes, I'll admit that being a sleaze journalist didn't do me a whole lot of good. I'll do my best to follow the high road from now on."

"Good. By the way, what ever happened to Rita? I haven't heard anything about her for awhile now."

"The last I heard, she left for Europe to cover some crap I refused to cover for her," Marla told him. "As far as I'm concerned, the farther away she is from me and the less I hear about her, the better."

* * *

"Okay ladies, that's a wrap for today," Lisa informed her team. "I'll see you all here tomorrow…same ferret time, same ferret channel."

Most of the Upperton U cheer squad, Kim included, groaned at the comment. Kim dearly loved her fiancé but she wished some of his idiosyncrasies, like his fascination with the Fearless Ferret, would remain confined to the young, blonde man.

Only to emerge on very rare occasions.

Still, this past week had been wonderful. She and Ron had returned to their Upperton apartment a week before classes started. They had been honest with the 'rents, telling them that Miss Hatchet wouldn't be present until the semester started. Much to Kim's surprise her father, after some initial grumbling, agreed. He gave the teens a hard stare and a few, mostly comical threats, but he agreed. After all, the cheer squad was getting ready for regional competition and needed to fit in every practice they possibly could. As for Ron, they were honest and said that he would be working out with the football team's strength trainer. Kim's mom gave the teens a knowing smile when they climbed into the Sloth for the trip back to Upperton.

Kim spent the short trip wondering if her mother has smiled because she was now engaged, because the brain surgeon knew what the teens planned to do during the week or because she had figured out what the two had managed to do during their Christmas Eve mission. The fact that her mother seemed to approve, or at least accept the fact, had Kim even more confused.

If she had wondered about her mother's actions, her teammates' reactions had been exactly what she had expected. Halfway through the first workout, Carla spotted the ring and announced her discovery. Lisa, however, quickly squelched the budding gossip and gushing session.

"We're here to perfect our routine!" She snapped at her squad. "Not discus our personal lives! Just for that, we're going to work a little bit harder today!"

Kim had groaned along with her teammates but had concentrated on the routine…just as Lisa had intended. After the workout, however, Lisa joined the rest of the girls performing a detailed examination of Kim's ring. The girls also requested other details about the proposal…details that Kim wasn't ready to divulge. She was friends with her teammates, but not quite THAT close.

"My bet was off by eight months," Marcella told her teammate. "But I'm still happy for you. This has been a long time coming."

Faye had looked a little sad at first, but quickly rallied and congratulated Kim. This set off another round of questions; questions that Kim was happy to answer: When and where were the two going to tie the knot? Would the squad be invited to the wedding? Had they made any sort of a press release? Were they going to continue the hero's life as a husband/wife team? Was she going to change her name?

It had been a productive, strenuous yet happy week with the squad. Ron had had a productive, strenuous, yet happy week with the strength trainer and the two teens had also managed daily sparring and hero-training sessions. The evenings and nights had been even better, with the privacy and isolation the house afforded allowing them to explore their relationship's new aspect. Still, as much as the two of them enjoyed their intimacy; as much as it felt so _right_, Kim couldn't help but feel a small, nagging guilt. Could some of last fall's protestors have a point? Were she and Ron abusing their privilege? After all, Senior had provided the house so that the two of them could attend the university while taking part in their preferred extracurriculars, not turn it into some sort of love nest.

Such concerns were now sort of a moot point. Hatchett was returning this evening and the new semester would start on Monday. They were going to have to put their newfound relationship on hold…and perhaps that was a good thing. While she had no regrets about what they were doing, they weren't adults; they were still teenagers preparing for adult life. As much as the next few weeks were going to be frustrating, for both of them, it was time to get back to their normal life.

Or at least as normal as life got, for the two of them.

Kim showered, dressed and met Ron for the ride back to the house. Ron was also feeling the strain since the strength training coach, who didn't have to worry about the star running back being worn out for the next game, had been pushing him hard. Even with the strenuous activity Kim was considering one last round before the chaperone showed up. A glance at her fiancé told her that Ron was thinking along the same lines. Unfortunately, just as they walked into the front door, the Kimmunicator sounded.

"There's no emergencies," Wade informed his friends. "I just thought I'd bring you up to speed on some items and sort of set the tone for your upcoming semester."

"Good call," Kim answered, keeping the frustration out of her voice. Ron reluctantly nodded his agreement. The teens sat on the couch and waited for Wade's update.

"Let's start locally," Wade continued. "The site has received several questions about your engagement ring. Two of these hits have come from news organizations. I know that you don't like to broadcast your personal details but people are going to start speculating unless you confirm your status. Once the new semester starts, lots of your classmates are going to notice it and at least of few of them are going to call various gossip-news organizations. I think we should deal with this before rumors start. How should I respond?"

"Tell them that we're engaged and that we intend on waiting until we get our Bachelor's degrees before getting married," Kim told him. Ron's quick nod told him that he agreed.

"That's easy enough," the teens could hear Wade typing at his keyboard.

"Next item, things are very quiet on the villain front. Professor Dementor, the Mathter and Adrena Lynn are still in prison. Duff Killigan is still on probation and behaving himself. Motor Ed is also on probation and although the Colorado Board of Corrections has been devoting more attention to him than normal, there isn't even a whisper of him acting up. The Seniors are still on their island and behaving themselves...at least within reason. To the best I can determine, the shock Dementor gave Camille Senior has her a little shy so she's staying on the island, as well. This only leaves Drakken, Fiske, Shego, Avaiarius and DNAmy unaccounted for."

"You don't have to worry about the first three," Kim told him. "I know we've been through this before and I'm really sorry we can't tell you the whole story but if any of them act up, Global Justice is going to be all over them."

"I understand," Wade assured her. "Just give me the whole story when you can. Aviarius and Amy have me concerned. Both of them might try to take revenge on you."

"We don't even know if Amy's alive!" Ron protested. "And wouldn't an eleven foot tall woman sort of stand out in a crowd?"

"Since nobody could find her body, I think we have to assume that she's still around. As for her size, remember that she changed her body before. She could very well do so again so that she can get close to the two of you. On that note I…ugh…kind of did something."

"Wade…" Kim's voice had a warning tone.

"I looked up all of your teachers for the upcoming semester and sort of…acquired…some genetic material from them. I've analyzed all of the samples and I can't detect any signs of genetic manipulation. While Amy's a much better geneticist than I am, I don't think she's good enough to hide genetic engineering from me. I also ran a background check on all of them and everyone pans out."

"Hold on there," Kim growled. "What do you mean by 'obtaining genetic material?'"

"It wasn't anything intrusive," Wade assured her. "Well…at least not very intrusive."

"Wade!"

"Okay! Okay, I modified a spare Kimmunicator to look like a sparrow and positioned it outside of one of the teachers' homes. When he came out, I made it buzz-bomb him and snagged a beak full of hair. Then I moved on to the next teacher. That way, I got genetic samples from all of them. While I can't modify genetics the way she can, I can spot the modifications. All of the teachers have unadulterated DNA."

"There's a fine line between discrete snooping and an ethics violation," Ron mused. "And I think you put one foot on each side of that line."

"I've erased all of my data," Wade told him. "So nobody, even me, can ever misuse it. Anyway, on with the briefing. Aviarius has vanished. Usually, when a criminal escapes, there's a broken trail of sightings and rumors but in his case...nothing."

"Do you think he's laying low, waiting for the heat to die down before showing his face?" Kim asked.

"That's my guess," Wade agreed. "Global Justice, the FBI and the U.S. Marshall's Service also thinks this is the case. He's been a villain for a long time, so he knows what he's doing. Our first hint that he's active again will probably be when he makes his next move. We'll just have to deal with him when he reappears."

"I've received some hits from several law-enforcement agencies, including Global Justice," Wade continued. "With most of the super villains out of the picture, these organizations have asked me to pass 'stop the bad guy' requests on to them. The local search and rescue organizations have made the same suggestion for lost and/or missing people requests. Bottom line up front; these groups want the two of you to be able to be just college students for awhile."

"Will anybody be asking us for help?" Kim's expression was actually forlorn. Helping people was something she took great pride in doing.

"Absolutely," Wade assured her. "But most of the help is going to be of the sort we can schedule. You're a role model so some of these agencies want you to talk to young people and encourage them to take advanced math and science classes, volunteer for civic organizations and that sort of thing. Don't worry, if anybody runs into a situation that requires your unique skills, they'll be contacting you."

"It's good to know that we're still needed," Kim sighed. "Anything else?"

"Just one odd thing. There have been several unconfirmed Dr. Bofox sightings in northwestern Germany. As you know, he vanished a few months ago."

"Any clue what he might be up to?"

"None," Wade shrugged. "Still, the authorities seized all of his records after they realized just what he was up to. It took him years to develop the shapeshifting procedure the first time so it could take him quite a while to re-create it, working from memory."

"These sightings," Ron interrupted. "How far are they from where we rescued Camille from Dementor?"

"They vary," Wade shrugged. "Anywhere from a dozen kilometers to about sixty kilometers; why?"

"Well, don't you think that it's a little odd that Dementor grabbed the worlds only known shapeshifter and took her…where he did, to perform experiments and now the person who gave her the abilities might be hanging out near the same place?"

"That _**is **_suspicious!" Wade smacked his head. "Why didn't I notice it before? I'll look into it. Even with the professor in jail, someone might be conducting the research he had started on Camille."

"Anything else?" Kim asked.

"Not at this time, I'll let you know if anything crops up. Wade out."

The Kimmunicator's screen went blank, leaving Kim, Ron and Rufus alone.

"Well," Ron commented. "It looks like we'll have a peaceful semester…or at least a peaceful start."

"I could use some peace and quiet," Kim agreed, leaning back against her fiancé. "Of course, the semester hasn't actually started yet. While classes start Monday, as far as I'm concerned the semester will start when Ms. Hatchett shows up…three hours from now."

"Do you have any ideas for spending that time?" Ron asked, letting his hands wander just a little bit.

"The same as yours, I suspect." Kim turned to face him, then pressed forward until he was lying on his back, with her on top of him.

"Cheese time," Rufus squeaked. The rodent scrambled to the floor and skittered off towards the kitchen, giggling all the way.

"I like the way he's thinking," Ron breathed, starting to peel Kim's shirt off. Kim smiled, savoring what was about to happen.

The sound of the front door smacking the doorstop caused both teens to scramble to their feet and straighten out their clothing.

"Always be early, that's what I always say," their chaperone's voice announced from the hallway.

"M-M-Ms. Hatchett," Kim stammered. "We weren't expecting you until seven."

"I'm an hour early."

"But it's only four!"

"But it's six…Eastern Time," the librarian corrected her. "I spent my vacation in Miami so as far as I'm concerned, it's already six. Now, I understand that the two of you have gotten engaged. Congratulations but don't think there's going to be any funny business taking place on my watch. I hope you had a nice break because, as of right now, it's back to the grind."

* * *

_A/N:_

_Sorry for the delay. Between reality imposing upon my time and a rather nasty computer virus, writing has been a sporadic activity. Still, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As always, major thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his ever patient and helpful beta work. Thanks to everyone who has dropped a review or otherwise shown interest. _

_Until my next update, everyone has my best wishes._

_daccu65_


	19. Mechanicals Have Feelings Too

Chapter 19: Mechanicals Have Feelings Too.

"Okay, why are you so down?" Vivian asked her companion. "You love Robot Rumble, even if these aren't the championship rounds."

"It just isn't the same," Oliver grumbled, recovering their fighting robot. The large, false man slung the machine over his shoulder and followed his creator out of the underground arena.

"What's changed? We still won and the fighting was great! You used to love it here."

"I do," Oliver grumbled. "But now you, Dr. Freeman, Dr. Possible and some of the other scientists will get together over snacks and talk while I'm stuck, for another hour, outside of your little restaurant."

Vivian Porter felt a little guilty about this. She had built Oliver to accomplish two purposes: The first was to make sure prospective employers and clients took her work seriously. Few people were ready to believe that a woman with supermodel looks was also a cutting-edge robotics expert so she gave Oliver a nerdy appearance and passed off her work as his. Her second reason was to dissuade certain …aggressive and determined…men that couldn't comprehend that her appearance and fashion choice didn't mean she wanted to be hit on constantly. Most guys understood that 'no' meant 'no' and after expressing interest, and assuming that she didn't reciprocate that interest, backed off. A few, however, thought that 'no' meant 'the game's afoot' so Vivian had made Oliver quite large. While this had the intended effect of intimidating men who were almost as desirable as they thought they were, it also had the unwanted effect of intimidating innocent bystanders.

Put bluntly, very few people felt comfortable near a man with a healthy water buffalo's body mass.

In addition to the 'public intimidation' issue, very few bars, restaurants and other assembly places had seating arrangements that could support Oliver's bulk. This left the poor robot standing and scowling like an imposing boarder outpost, which scared other potential patrons even more. Since the small, intellectual group that Oliver was talking about didn't want to impose upon the restaurant, Oliver stayed outside.

"You've been staying outside for years!" She protested. "Why is it bothering you now?"

Oliver just grumbled in response.

"Speak up! Why are you feeling so bad about it now?"

"It's SADI!" He snapped. "The two of us used to talk while you biologicals were inside. She has heavy-duty suspension, so I could sit in the driver's seat and we kept each other company while you were inside having a good time. Now, all she wants to talk about is that Ed Lipsky guy."

That brought Vivian up short.

Motor Ed was a bit of a sore subject for the robotics expert. It wasn't that she had been smitten with the man, even though she had enjoyed the bit of flirting the two had indulged in several weeks ago…right in this very arena. Vivian Porter was honest enough with herself to admit that she found it a little bit vexing whenever a guy quit flirting with her to pay attention to another woman. When that other woman turned out to be a vehicle, Vivian found the situation to be downright insulting!

"I don't understand it," Oliver continued. "We seemed to get along so well! I mean, it seems like such an obvious connection, two mechanicals finding themselves amongst a bunch of biologicals strike up a friendship, but we really seemed to have a connection. Anymore, all she can talk about is Ed this and Ed that! It's like I don't even exist for her anymore!"

"Hold on just a minute! Are you developing…feelings for her?"

"SADI and I are just friends," Oliver insisted.

"Are you sure? You're sounding an awful lot like a jealous boyfriend."

"How can I be jealous? I'm a mechanical! I don't have feelings like jealousy and love! It's just that she doesn't even pay attention to _me_ anymore! Whenever we're together now, I'm just an audio receptor for her to download to. It's all about how she shivered when Ed lubed her bearings or how she purred when he tweaked her timing. I mean, I can do those things just as well as he can so why hasn't she ever asked me? What am I, used lubricant?"

"You _are_ jealous!" Vivian looked at her creation with open-mouthed wonder. She suddenly realized what a mother must feel like when her son developed a sense of puppy-love. "Have you told her how you feel?"

"I don't feel!"

"You most certainly do! I programmed you to both feel protective towards me and to have the ability to adjust your perceptions based upon experience. You've developed a romantic interest in SADI!"

"She's NOT my girlfriend…or carfriend. We're just really close friends! How could I feel anything else towards her?"

"Oh, I don't know," Vivian hid a sly smile. "Have you told her how much you care about her?"

"I've thought about it but what if she doesn't think the same way? I mean, where do we go from there, if she thinks that I'm a fine companion when the biologicals are palling around but I just don't make her universal joints spin? How can we keep being friends after that? How will I go through life being alone?"

"You're not alone, Oliver. I'm here."

"Yeah but we just don't connect the way I connect…or connected…with SADI. Sure, her talking about Ed's greasy, skilled hands threatens to overload my irritation subroutine but at least she's talking to me. What do I do?"

"I'm not what you'd call a relationship expert," Vivian admitted. "And I never thought I'd ever have this conversation with you but I think you should tell her this. If you don't and someday she drives off to be with Ed forever, you're going to regret it for the rest of your run-time."

* * *

Rita took a drink from the server's tray and returned her attention to her notebook. At this time of year, with most of North America and Northern Europe facing cold and snow, she loved Spain's Mediterranean coast. She was more than due for a vacation and her current location put her in position to follow Club Banana's next series of shows. While waiting, she was able to both check up on her journalistic rivals and get some ammunition for her upcoming reports. The first thing she noticed was that her former collaborator, Marla, had made a glowing report on Team Possible's actions. The newswoman shook her head, she had hoped that Marla was made of sterner stuff than that. Still, it was just as well that she had found out, now, that Marla didn't have the stomach to face a strong challenge.

Rita shook her head. Marla had possessed the simple concept that all good celebrity reporters based their careers upon: the fact that anything a celebrity did was automatically interesting to a significant portion of the population. Not only did such viewers love to watch the famous, wealthy or beautiful (or those attempting to become some combination of the three) do pretty much anything, these same viewers spent a disproportionate amount of money on the products that sponsored such programming. As a result, the celebrities got free publicity, the sponsors sold their products and the viewers were able to watch their idols during less than glamorous moments. It was a win for everyone.

Savvy celebrities…or at least their publicists…understood this as well and milked the relationship with the press. Oh, some celebrities might claim that they just wanted a private life…while making sure that at least four cameras recorded the claim. Yet, when these same 'leave me alone when I'm not on stage' celebrities starred in their own reality TV shows or preened for the cameras outside clubs and theaters, you knew they were playing the game. It was simple, the louder they demanded their privacy, the more a certain segment became convinced that they had something to hide. A good celebrity reporter made her money by digging up those secrets and, if the secrets were nasty enough, step up to become a celebrity scandal reporter.

Once, Rita thought that Marla had the potential to take her reporting that extra step. The younger reporter had an almost instinctive feel for the fine line between conjecture and a claim. That was always the key; suggest and imply without actually reporting anything as a fact. If your continued half-truths and innuendo baited the celebrity into either verbally retaliating or attempting a lawsuit, so much the better. You could claim that your reporting was getting close to an unpleasant truth, based on the fact that the celebrity retaliated. Yet, in the end, Marla hadn't hung tough. The boyscout, Warren, had unleashed a very careful expose on her ongoing coverage of Kim Possible, forcing Rita to cut ties or be smeared by association. If Marla had had the guts, she would have dropped low for a few weeks then picked up again, at another local station. Instead, she had taken some garbage job, wandering the western plains' back-country and trying to restore her 'credibility'! Now, she was probably shivering through a Wyoming winter while Rita was lounging on a Spanish beach.

Smiling to herself, the established scandal-reporter reviewed her notes. In two days, the Club Banana fashion show was going to display its offerings in Malaga and Rita was going to be waiting for them when they arrived. It looked like prime pickings for a scandal reporter, with one of the models reportedly attempting to have a rival model killed late last year. This would-be victim, Bonnie Rockwaller, promised to be a very good, potential gossip source. First, there was a good chance that the girl would hold a grudge against her fellow models, which would make her more than willing to give a sensationalist reporter all sorts of inside news.

Secondly, the girl was a recovering addict and former narcotics dealer. As such, she might be desperate to make as much money and fame as she could, as quickly as she could. On the other hand, she could represent a character that some of Rita's audience could connect with, the flawed girl trying to overcome her past and gain fame and fortune.

Rita pursed her lips, considering how…and if…to pursue that particular story line. Her audience liked absolutes: The good guys had to be very good, victimized people they could relate to while the bad guys had to be manipulative, greedy people with little in common with the audience. Perhaps Rita could pitch Club Banana, and Cocoa himself, as taking advantage of Rockwaller's hard luck. Rita decided to set that idea on the back shelf for a moment and continued to study Rockwaller herself.

The unknown girl's last attribute was the best yet: She had a past with Kim Possible! Not only did she have a history with the celebrity; it was an acrimonious history! The two girls had been rivals on their high school cheerleading squad and Possible, with her boyfriend, had busted the model for drug dealing back during their senior year! This was wonderful; Rockwaller should have plenty of dirt on Kim Possible. If, by some chance she didn't want to smear Possible's reputation, she should be ready to dish the dirt on her fellow models, Club Banana or even Cocoa Banana himself. If, by some inconceivable chance the girl didn't want to get a leg up by trashing her fellow models, Rita could picture her as the victim in all of this: Afraid to speak up against either Kim Possible or Club Banana for fear of repercussions. After all, Kim Possible had roughed her up and a fellow model had tried to kill her.

Rita took a healthy sip from her drink and pictured the ratings she would be seeing in a short time.

* * *

Beep-Beep-be-deep

Kim seized the Kimmunicator with much more relief than annoyance. For the past three months, things had been incredibly quiet on both the villain and rescue fronts. With no missions outside of a few lectures, Kim had found herself without any Team Possible distractions. As a result, and despite the fact that her academics and cheerleading were much more challenging than they had been in high school, Kim Possible was incredibly bored.

Actually, bored wasn't the right word for it; 'in a frustrated rut' was much more accurate. Ms. Hatchett had imposed her iron discipline onto the teens; demanding study and/or homework time each night, as well as household chores. Because of this, Kim and Ron were on top of their classes and Kim, without any leadership responsibilities on the cheerleading squad, had no problems keeping up in that regard. The only problem with the down time was that she and Ron couldn't spend some of it doing what they really wanted to do. With Ms. Hatchett; she with the ears that could tell if the neighbors had filled up their car with premium or discount gasoline, doing her symbolic and substantive job of keeping things platonic, there was no exploring their relationship's new aspect.

It wasn't just the intimacy that Kim missed. She found that she really enjoyed sleeping…as in slumber…with him. Back during one of the overnight cheer competitions in high school, she had found herself roomed up with Liz. Kim and her fellow redhead had a minor disagreement over the thermostat setting that night. Kim liked to sleep in a warm room while Liz preferred cooler temperatures, claiming that the best night's sleep came in a cool room, under warm blankets with her pet cat curled up next to her. After sharing the house with just Ron for a week, Kim came to the conclusion that Liz had been wrong; the best night's sleep was in a cool room, under warm blankets with a fiancé and a naked mole rat.

Going back to 'just dating' was frustrating for both teens.

So Kim and Ron, caught up with their academics and athletics, spent their evenings under Ms. Hatchett's watchful eye. Even normal dating activity, like going out to see a movie or to get a meal, was denied them. By the time they were finished with classes, extracurricular activities, homework and household chores, they were too close to their curfew to do more than just take short walks around the neighborhood before coming back inside. Once inside, they watched a little television while wishing they could do something else.

Rufus took every opportunity to torment the young couple. Kim didn't fully understand the link the rodent shared with her lover, but the little guy seemed to know when the teens' hormones were demanding action. When this happened, he would saunter off to the kitchen and return with a piece of cheese. While Kim and Ron ground their teeth in frustration, he would slowly nibble on his snack, savoring every bit with a fiendish expression.

So, it was with relief at having something…anything…to break her out of this routine that Kim answered the Kimmunicator. A quick glance to her side told her that Ron was looking forward to a little distraction, as well.

"What's up Wade?"

"I've just got a very…interesting…request on the site," the youngster informed her.

"Interesting, or completely bizarre?" Ron asked.

"The request sort of has one foot on either side of that line," Wade admitted. "We have a sort-of troubled youth, who's been slipping off to spend time with her sort-of boyfriend and her sort-of father would like you to have a word with…her."

"That's a lot of 'sort-ofs' to sort through," Kim commented.

"It's kind of hard to explain but you'll understand once…she…explains the sitch. I think it's better if she tells you the whole story herself."

"Okay, we're ready for action," Kim declared. "When does our ride get here?"

"The ride's outside your door already, but it's only for you."

"Wade, you know I don't like going on missions without Ron."

"I know but trust me, this will be fine. The ride has sort of brought the subject so you'll spend the entire time talking with her right in front of the house."

"If you say it's on the up and up, I trust you," Kim admitted. With a quick look at Ron, she added, "this might be a girl talk thing, you probably don't want to come along."

"I believe you on that one," Ron shuddered. He dearly loved his fiancee but, after overhearing a private, Kim/Monique conversation once, preferred to distance himself from such conversations.

The pair shared a quick, chaste kiss (the type Hatchett didn't object to) and Kim was quickly out of the door, where she spotted a familiar car waiting at the end of the sidewalk. Without hesitation, the redhead sprinted down the walk and jumped into the door that opened as she arrived.

"SADI!" Kim declared to the instrument panel, taking the passenger's seat. "It's so good to see you again."

"You too, kid," the response sounded from the entertainment system's speakers. "I hear you have a really sweet set of wheels now."

"Yeah, the Sloth. The tweebs tricked it out for me so it's unique…but not as unique as you are."

"That's sweet of you to say and I really like your brothers."

"So, on to the mission. I thought you were supposed to bring someone here to talk to me. Is she hiding in the back?"

"About that…I guess I'm the one you're supposed to be talking to."

"WHAT? I thought I was supposed to talk to a young girl who was leaving home to spend time with her boyfriend."

"Well Kim, Dr. Freeman built me when you were about twelve so, at seven years old, you could say that I'm young. As for a girl, I have a female personality and as for leaving my father…well, if the guy who created you isn't your father, who is?"

"So who's the boyfriend you've been visiting?"

"Oh, Eddie's so exciting! The things he can do for me…it's just so overwhelming!"

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, he's a paroled felon who's trying to get his life back on track. He lives in Canon City and works as a mechanic."

"Paroled felon…Eddie…mechanic," Kim stammered, putting the pieces together. "Do you mean Motor Ed?"

"Ed Lipsky," SADI confirmed. "He's a really sweet guy."

"Sweet guy? SADI, do you realize that the felony he's paroled for was attempting to kill me?"

"About that…I thought you'd kind of made your peace with that. I mean, in your line of work don't you run into that quite a bit?"

"This was personal," Kim sniffed. "I've dealt with the bad guys trying to get me out of the way or trying to off me when I try to stop them, but he came to my school to kill me!"

"Yeah, and he also took one heck of a beating to let you and your boyfr…I mean, your fiancé, save the world from that Loward guy, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did," Kim admitted. "Hey! How did you know I was engaged? I wouldn't think you'd be much for social news."

"I monitor all of the FM and AM stations," SADI answered. "So I can tune in anything Dr. Freeman asks me to. Your change of status blipped on the entertainment and serious news stations and is still making the rounds on the gossip stations. Anyway, back to the matter at hand."

"I'll put _**that**_ particular bit of his past out of the way," Kim agreed. "I didn't know you could…well…feel a romantic attachment."

"I'm not specifically wired that way," SADI informed the redhead. "But it sort of came with the territory. Dr. Freeman contacted an artificial personality expert to set up my base programming. I'm programmed to grow and develop my intellect and that means developing emotions, as well. However, that doesn't mean that I have any experience dealing with my emotions so I thought I'd have a word with you."

"Why me?"

"You're the only one I could think of to talk to. You've hooked up fairly recently and since you're engaged, you must think that you've made the right choice. How did you know that Ron was the one?"

"I might not be the best one to ask," Kim admitted. "I mean, I didn't see him as a guy for a long, long time."

"But you eventually came to see him as a guy…as _the_ guy."

"Yeah. All the time we spent as friends really put us in tune with each other so once we really got together, the boy/girl stuff just seemed to fall into place. I guess you've never had a friend who was a boy, so that you could compare that to having a boyfriend."

"Actually I have," SADI countered.

"Who?"

"Oliver."

"Oliver who…oh! Do you mean Vivian Porter's robot?"

"That's him!" SADI's voice sounded pleased that Kim guessed his identity. "Dr. Freeman and Vivian Porter enjoy Robot Rumble and some other brainiac sort of things in the tri-city area, so they actually wound up spending time with a small group of people kind of like them. That's how Oliver and I started to hang out with each other."

"What did the two of you do?"

"Usually it was just linking…interfacing our minds and discussing the humans we served. Oliver is programmed to interact with more humans…and more frequently than I am, so I really got some insight into interpersonal relations. I didn't know it at the time but these insights made me want to experience something similar to an interpersonal relationship. Still, I really enjoy the time I spend with Oliver."

"Sounds kind of familiar," Kim mused.

"The two of us acted like a car and driver," SADI continued, not paying attention to Kim's comment. "If Dr. Freeman and Vivian were going to be somewhere they didn't need us for an hour or more. We would drive around and Oliver would point out different relationships. He'd show me the bullies and victims, the parents and kids, and finally, he'd point out people in different stages of a romantic relationship. We actually watched several couples meet, hook up and, in some cases, break up."

"Wait a minute!" Kim interrupted. "Was Ron and I one of the couples?"

"Hey, don't ask the question unless you're ready to hear the answer, kid."

"I want to know the answer."

"Okay, fine. We had a wager. Oliver thought the two of you would get together and I didn't."

"Why didn't you think Ron and I would get together?"

"Desirability index," SADI answered. "I worked up and evaluated a set of traits that draw people together, such as physical attractiveness, intelligence, physical capability and public perception. I noted that you humans tend to hook up with people with a similar desirability index. Kim, I'm not putting down your fiancé, but you really outclass him when it comes to desirability."

"At first look," Kim pointed out. "I'll admit that he doesn't really draw eyes to him, but there's a lot more to a relationship than a desirability index."

"I've come to understand that. My desirability index worked great to predict who would hook up but it failed completely to determine who would stay together. That's why I wanted to talk to you, I don't want to throw away my life if Ed and I just aren't going to go the distance. What made you decide to give Ron your service contract, if you know what I mean?"

"To be honest, it took me awhile to realize that I wanted to be with him but I finally figured out something that was very simple; I'm happy when I'm with him."

"That's something to think about, I guess. I mean, I've always been happy whenever I'm with Oliver but Eddie…the things he can do."

"I'm wondering if this is something I really want to hear."

"Look, Oliver's a nice guy but Eddie…oh, Eddie! I mean, the things he can do with those hands of his. I never knew how much I wanted strong, skilled hands under my hood until he put them there."

Unnoticed by SADI, Kim swallowed heavily.

"Those hands…tweaking my timing…adjusting my alternator…manipulating my manifolds…rubbing my radiator…I never realized just how it could be! I mean, mechanics have serviced my engine before but that was just maintenance…making sure that everything was working correctly. This…this was something completely different. The way he asked me how I felt…the way he was doing it for the way I reacted more than just to maintain me. My filter couldn't let in enough air! I thought CPU just quit working! It was overwhelming! Y-you can't know what it was like!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Kim murmured. "Could you check your environmental controls? It seems to be getting warm in here."

"Sure thing," the sound of the cab fans punctuated SADI's answer. "But then he went on to my undercarriage. Oh! What he did for my undercarriage! Words just can't describe it! You don't know what it's like to have him underneath you, laboring for your pleasure! His hands…sliding over my suspension…tickling my transmission…caressing my crankcase! It was so overwhelming!"

Unknown to the intelligent vehicle, her audience was becoming more and more agitated. Still, Kim managed to keep quiet.

"I knew that he was enjoying himself," SADI continued. "But what was really incredible was that he was enjoying the fact that I was enjoying it…do you understand?"

Kim, speechless, simply nodded.

"So I started letting him know how much I was enjoying it…purring and whispering how good it felt. That seemed to spur him on to work harder, which made me enjoy it even more. It was an out of control spiral! The more I enjoyed it, the harder he worked to make it enjoyable for me! It just kept building and building until…"

"ENOUGH!" Kim shrieked from the passenger's seat. "Some of us haven't had a proper servicing for awhile…if you can understand me!"

"I'm sorry if I upset you," SADI apologized. "I just wanted to explain how I…"

"Okay, fine," Kim interrupted, regaining her composure. "I shouldn't have snapped like that it's just…Ron and…never mind. The only thing I can really say is that you might want to consider what's really going to be important for you."

"I don't understand," SADI tilted back and forth slightly, in an approximation of shrugging her shoulders.

"I don't really have much experience with…receiving servicing," Kim explained. "But I do have some experience with hanging out with other people. We humans usually go through a process known as dating before we take our relationships to another level. It's sort of our way of judging our compatibility with each other. For a long time, I never thought of the guy who's now my fiancé as boyfriend, or dating, material. It was all because of that desirability index of yours. In high school, we called it the food chain. I knew that I ranked high and he didn't, so I tried to hook up with guys who were closer to my level. I had fun dating but nothing more permanent ever came out of it."

"It wasn't that these hot guys were all jerks," Kim continued. "Most of them were nice guys."

"So why aren't you still with one of them?"

"When it really came down to it, I realized that I enjoyed being with Ron more than I enjoyed being with the really, really hot guys. Look SADI, my life is my life and I can't really say that what's working for me will work for you. I will say this, for every hour I spent dating, I spent at least a dozen just hanging out. For that reason, I realized that I'd be happier with a guy I got along with than a guy who was a great date. I was lucky to find out that Ron was a pretty good date already, and he's gotten better as time has gone by."

"So what does that have to do with my situation?"

"Just this," Kim answered. "I'm willing to bet that for every minute you spend…" Kim paused to swallow heavily. "Receiving service…you're going to spend hours or days just talking or even just being a car. It seems to me that this makes someone who's better at talking more desirable than an expert…service technician."

"It's getting close to my curfew," Kim informed her friend. "So I'm going to have to go back inside. I can't tell you what you should do but I can say this; for the most part, I enjoyed dating hot guys but that's just what they were, fun dates. There wasn't anything wrong with it…until I nearly set aside the best thing that ever happened to me because I wanted a real hottie. I was lucky because Ron and I both wanted something more from each other and were willing to take a chance."

"So what's your advice?" SADI asked, opening the door.

"My advice is to not get so hung up in the moment that you forget what's really important to you."

"But the passion and joy," SADI protested. "Should I just turn my taillights on it?"

"Not at all," Kim told her, climbing out of the vehicle. "You're just going to have to ask yourself what's important, the passion or the companionship. You might also ask yourself who's going to be better at becoming a complete person. Will they guy who provides you with companionship learn to provide the passion better than the guy who provides the passion learns to provide the companionship? Like I said, I got lucky; I found a guy who can provide both. I hope you can as well."

"So do I, Kim. You've given me a lot to process."

"It won't be easy," Kim told her, closing the door. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"I appreciate it, Kim. I hope I can return the favor some day."

Kim waved as the car drove off into the night. Heaving a deep sigh, the redhead turned back towards the house and contemplated a short, cold shower instead of a long, warm snuggle.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Again, I tip my hat to Joe Stoppinghem for his beta work and suggestions. _

_Thanks for reading, folks. _

_Best wishes,_

_daccu65_


	20. Irony

Chapter 20: Irony

The headlining models swept down the runway and surrounded Cocoa Banana, while the audience cheered and cameras practically strobe-lighted the group. Bonnie took her place on the back stage with the other background models, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. After several minutes, the applause dropped down to a less ear-splitting level and Cocoa Banana, with a broad sweep of his arm, prompted his headliners to accompany him backstage. As was the eccentric man's custom, as soon as he and the headliners cleared the runway, he motioned for the background models to take a turn. While most of the viewers, critics, reporters and photographers were already packing up and leaving, several stayed to observe the up and coming models. Bonnie sashayed and waved with the rest, filing up and down the catwalk and into the backstage area.

"That was a wonderful show!" Cocoa called to his crew, as soon as they were all out of the public's eye. While the fashion guru treated his headlining models to better facilities than the background models, he made it a point to address all of his models at the same time. "Now, as you all know, we've spent the last couple of months touring Europe's sunny, warm climates. We have a two-week break coming up before we head north for our Copenhagen show, which kicks off our Northern European tour. We'll be showcasing some cooler weather fashions at that time. Enjoy your time off but be sure to be there, on time. We're on a very tight schedule for fitting and rehearsals."

Bonnie joined the rest of the models in a round of self-directed applause before heading to the dressing room. As hectic as the last several weeks had been, she wasn't exactly looking forward to the time off. While she didn't have to return to Colorado, and her sisters, for this break, the Northern European tour was going to finish the Club Banana European show. A two-week break, two more hectic weeks on the fashion tour and Bonnie was going to find herself back in Middleton.

While Club Banana had tentatively scheduled an Asiatic tour for next year, Bonnie had no illusions about being a part of it. She and Will hadn't secured an invitation to either Ellie's or Trudy's home base, so Global Justice wasn't likely to request that Club Banana retain her services. While Cocoa was probably willing to keep her on the payroll, she was unlikely to gain permission for international travel without Global Justice tweaking the Colorado Board of Paroles.

Her parole officer was more than willing to encourage her modeling career…up to a certain point. Modeling Smartymart business, casual and sportswear in Middleton, where he could keep an eye on her, was fine by him. Running around Europe, with a Global Justice chaperone, was also something he was comfortable allowing. However, even Bonnie had to admit that the hectic, sometimes wild, life of an international model wasn't exactly the best one for an unsupervised, recovering junkie. No, if she and Will failed to accomplish their mission by the end of the tour, she was going to find herself living back in Middleton.

Of course, if she and Will accomplished their mission, Global Justice would have no reason to continue to back her modeling ambitions…although she hoped that the secretive organization would at least be grateful enough to help reduce her sentence's length and severity. At the very least, since she was over eighteen, maybe she could get her own place in Middleton. Bonnie could handle remaining on probation. She could handle working at Smartymart, supplementing her income with infrequent modeling jobs. She could handle attending classes at the local community college.

She could not handle moving back in with her mother and sisters.

If she _did_ move out, she would be the first of the Rockwaller siblings to do so. She was positive that her sisters would never support themselves, preferring to mooch off of their mother until some guy went brain dead enough to actually propose to one of them.

That thought brought her up short. While she and Will were nowhere near thinking in those terms, he was the closest she had ever come to seriously considering such a commitment. Maybe Kim was right and it was just the fact that he was a constant, stable element in her chaotic world that attracted her to him. On the other hand, maybe the fact that she was attracted to him was a sign that she was growing up and starting to look at the world with clearer eyes.

She thought about this while she quickly changed into some casual clothing. (Provided by Club Banana, Cocoa realized that by giving his models his fashions to wear when the weren't on the runway, he was gaining continual advertising.) As part of her cover, she visited clubs and attended parties with the rest of the aspiring models. There was no shortage of affluent, attractive young men at such events and most were more than interested in charming a young woman with her looks and (growing) recognition. As much as she enjoyed flirting (just a little) with these guys, as much as she liked being able to draw their attention away from most of the other young women at such gatherings, she found herself constantly looking for Will. Just a year ago, in high school, this situation would have been her dream come true: showing off hot fashions while surrounded by wealthy, hot guys. Now, she found herself pining for a guy who was hesitant, to say the least, about letting her get close.

That had been the roughest part since returning from the holiday break. Will's public façade was the same one he had worn prior to their big, soul-baring fight, over Thanksgiving. In public he was the happy-go-lucky boyfriend, lounging on the beach or dancing with her at the clubs. In private, however, he had changed. He still supported her, making sure she was ready to face each day. However, that support had become something similar to a butler supporting his employer. He was efficient, he helped her but he absolutely refused to let their…relationship…become personal.

Bonnie shook her head at the irony, she had gotten what she once wished for and found that she didn't like it, and left the dressing room. As soon as she stepped out of the stage door, someone who she truly didn't want to meet found her.

"Bonnie! Bonnie Rockwalker!"

Bonnie flinched at the sound of Rita Richards' voice. The scandal reporter had spent the last several weeks circling the tour like a spoiled pet dog circling diners at the dinner table. During that time, a few of the models and staff had succumbed to temptation and had dropped the reporter a few tidbits. As with the metaphorical dog, Rita had been encouraged rather than satisfied. Since then, the journalistic jackal had set her sights on Bonnie. While the former cheerleader had managed to avoid her in the past, she was now caught.

"My name is _Rockwaller_," Bonnie informed her would-be interrogator, hoping that getting off on the wrong foot would back the hack off.

Vain hope.

"Whatever," Rita waved off the correction. "I'm sure you've heard of me, I'm Rita Richards."

"Oh," Bonnie replied, with her nose firmly in the air and her old 'queen bee' attitude in place. "Don't you host some program called '_In the Now'_?"

"_In the Know_," Rita pointedly corrected the younger woman.

"Whatever," Bonnie matched Rita's earlier, nonchalant reaction to being corrected.

"I've got the latest news," Rita boasted. "What everyone who's anyone wants to know about everyone who's anyone. My viewers really want the scoop on you!"

A year ago, Bonnie would have jumped at the opportunity. Now, she hesitated. Rita took the hesitation as assent.

"My first question is about the incident in Spain, last year," the reporter began. "What can you tell me about it?"

"Two men assaulted me in an alley," Bonnie informed her.

"What sort of assault was it?" Rita asked. "Robbery? Attempted sexual assault?"

"They were trying to kill me," Bonnie shuddered, remembering the helpless horror she had felt. "My boyfriend broke it up."

"Shortly after this assault, the police arrested one of Club Banana's other background models. Were the two incidents related?"

"I won't say," Bonnie informed her. "There are still legal actions taking place, so it's best if I don't say anything."

"Okay then, answer me this; what were you doing in that alley?"

"I'd rather not say anything."

"You don't want to, or you can't?"

"I don't want to."

"Very well, if you don't say anything, my viewers will be forced to draw their own conclusions," Rita informed the younger woman. "Hmmm…a recovering junkie and drug dealer _just happened _to be in an alley after midnight. I wonder what sort of rumors will get started if you don't say anything to counter them."

"Fine! I had an argument with my boyfriend and I stormed out of our room! I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going and I didn't realize I was in a high-crime area. Fortunately, my boyfriend was concerned about my emotional state and followed me. That's why he arrived in time to break up the assault."

"What was the argument about?" Rita asked, leaning forward in her eagerness.

"None of your business!"

"_An emotional outburst sends an up-and-coming model running off into the night_," Rita composed out loud, rubbing her chin in a contemplative manner. "_Shortly afterwards, another model is out of the tour. Could there have been some sort of love triangle taking place_? _Perhaps the tour's producers had hired the two models for…something in addition…to the way they looked in the fashions_. I wonder how Cocoa will react to that kind of speculation."

"If you _must_ know, the two of us were arguing about the future," Bonnie snarled.

"The future?"

"Yes," Bonnie answered, now feeling herself gaining some control over the conversation. "As you must know, modeling is a very…uncertain…career. While this tour has given me some great experience and exposure, it doesn't take much to derail a career."

"So he wanted you to give up modeling?" Bonnie could almost see the headlines running through Rita's mind.

"No!" Bonnie protested, thinking very quickly. "He told me he wanted me to pursue my dreams, even if it meant leaving him behind. Club Banana might put an Asiatic tour together next season and if I'm in the tour, he won't be able to accompany me. He told me that he'd understand if I had to leave him behind. I don't want to leave him and that's what started the argument."

"So, will you be in the Asiatic Tour?"

"It's too early to say…and before you come up with any threatening headlines, the executives haven't even made a final decision on having the tour, much less decided on the models."

"That's fair enough," Rita murmured. "_Young model gets into a lover's quarrel and flees into the night. Her lover follows her, hoping to console her, and rescue's her from two thugs._ That has a nice ring to it."

"I'm so glad you find it acceptable," Bonnie grumbled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Now, what can you tell me about your fellow models?" Rita asked.

"I don't understand the question."

"Surely their has to be something that my viewers will find interesting! Interesting habits that the headlining models keep secret from the general public? Secret celebrity boyfriends or girlfriends? Mysterious patrons? Maybe you know about some models who aren't very talented, but some Club Banana bigwigs seem to want them around…if you know what I mean?"

"I'm not talking," Bonnie snapped back. "The dirty laundry behind the scenes is just that…behind the scenes dirty laundry and that's where it belongs."

"Hmm…" Rita murmured, with a condescending smile. "I wonder what will happen if a national broadcast, with a large, loyal viewing base, were to break the story that not only is one of Club Banana's models a former junkie, she's a former dealer. Imagine the outrage sweeping across the nation. If that were to happen, I suppose Club Banana could only really take one course of action, could it."

Bonnie glared at the very smug Rita for several, endless seconds. Just when she seemed to be getting her life back together, just when she seemed to be putting a career together, this hack comes along to blackmail her!

"Let's get this straight," Bonnie snarled, trying to play for some time. "If I don't dish some dirt on my fellow models, or the management, or both, you're going to cost me my job?"

"I'm not saying anything of the sort," Rita corrected her; with a voice that was so falsely sweet it made Bonnie's teeth hurt. "I'm just saying that I need material to report on my broadcast. If I don't have anything…else…to report, I'll just have to report on Cocoa Banana's hiring practices. I'll have absolutely no control over how the public reacts to the report…or how Club Banana reacts to the public reaction."

Rita's smile got even wider as she stared down the younger woman.

Bonnie had to do something, quickly. If Rita ran a hatchet story, too many people might start wondering just why Club Banana hired a former dealer. Too many questions could blow her and Will's cover. There was no time to talk to Will, no time to talk to the tour's director. She had to make a decision, now, and live with the consequences. She suddenly remembered how Kim's friendly reporter, Warren, had staged a 'full disclosure' maneuver against this very gossip-monger. While she didn't have a journalistic white knight at her back, she had something that would work.

"Fine!" She snapped, spinning around and storming back into the building. "You want the dirt, I'll start dishing the dirt!"

"Where are you going?" Rita demanded. Bonnie's sheer insolence drew the reporter after her.

"To where I'm going to dish the dirt," Bonnie sniffed back. The aspiring model stormed through the backstage area and onto the runway, with Rita on her heels. The last few photographers, critics and fashion reporters, who were talking as they packed up their equipment, looked up, startled.

"Some of you might recognize me," Bonnie declared to the curious onlookers, hoping that most of them understood English. "I'm one of the background models on the tour. One of your…_colleagues…_brought up some potential rumors about this tour. I thought everyone would like to know the full story."

The assembled reporters quickly pulled out cameras and other recording devices. While they weren't rumormongers, their bosses would not be very forgiving if they simply walked away from a story. In addition, they realized what Bonnie was trying to accomplish and humiliating a junk journalist was something all of them were willing to do.

"Miss Rockwaller, I don't think you need to be quite so public…" Rita began.

"I'm about to dish the dirt," Bonnie interrupted. "So you can either stay here and listen to the story or you can leave and watch it on some other networks, later. I'm sure your viewers will understand." Bonnie flashed Rita a mirror of the woman's earlier, falsely sweet smile.

"I'm not trying to sound like a self-centered deva," Bonnie told the assembled media. "But I want to answer some questions about why I'm on the tour."

"Don't worry," one of the reporters snorted. "We're used to covering models. Self-centered narcissism is almost a prerequisite."

"Thanks…I think," Bonnie flashed the man a grateful smile. "Anyway, an…investigative reporter (Here, Bonnie gave Rita a very meaningful glance) uncovered some of my character flaws and started to wonder why Club Banana would want someone like me on this tour. I'll go into how I wound up on the tour then field some questions. I hope your ready for a lot of stuttering and stammering, since I haven't had the chance to prepare for a press conference."

"I first met Cocoa Banana, by accident, when I was eighteen," Bonnie began, noticing a very nervous Will Du standing behind the reporters. "I attended the same high school as Kim Possible. During our senior my boyfriend left me, which left me very upset. To make a long story short, Kim allowed me to accompany her on one of her missions and Cocoa Banana provided the transportation for that mission. During the trip, Cocoa listened to me complain about my life story and took pity on me. That's how I met Mr. Banana…pure random chance."

"Later that same school year, I made the two most idiotic decisions in my life," Bonnie admitted, continuing her tale. "Kim and I never got along very well. She was the head cheerleader and I wanted to be. I was looking for any advantage I could find to unseat her, so I turned to chemical means."

"Steroids?" One of the reporters asked.

"Not exactly," Bonnie answered. "I don't think the narcotic called Pump ever reached Europe, so you might not know about its effects. Anyway, Pump suppressed appetite, eased pain and enhanced energy. I started to use it, fully aware of what I was doing. After several weeks of using the drug, I did something even more foolish: I began to deal it. Not only did I sell the drug, I tricked one of my teammates into taking the drug, knowing that she would become addicted."

"Eventually, I got caught," she continued, noticing that Will was now looking mortified. "The drug's side effects were…are…aggression and paranoia. If you continue to use the drug, these symptoms become more pronounced, even without overdosing. It's almost like someone designed the drug to make the users become public menaces. Anyway, Kim Possible and her partner, Ron, had been dealing with violent users in the local schools when I became too brazen about peddling my product. The local police spotted me pushing the product in a public park and called in Kim and Ron."

"I pled guilty to the charges," Bonnie told her audience. "It didn't make much sense to fight the charges in court, since the police had overwhelming evidence against me. After that, a lot of my opportunities dried up. The universities that had been courting me with cheerleading scholarships withdrew their offers. Most colleges and universities wouldn't even respond to my applications, much less accept them. That was when Cocoa Banana gave me my first, big break: he asked me to model for his contestant in a young fashion designers' contest."

"Of course, he acted like I was doing him a favor," Bonnie smiled. "True, their model had dropped out very late in the game and I lived in the same town as the designer, but he still could have found plenty of models without the baggage I brought. The fact is that Cocoa Banana just wanted to help out someone in who was in a bad way. Monique and I managed to win the contest but that didn't open many doors for me; I was still a junkie and a convicted felon. Fortunately for me, Smartymart was willing to hire me and Middleton Community College accepted me to attend classes. That's when Cocoa Banana gave me my next big break, he asked me to sign on for the tour and he interceded with my parole board to allow me to travel abroad."

"Once again, Cocoa Banana took a risk by hiring me because he thought I deserved another chance. I would like to stress that I'm not blackmailing anyone associated with this tour, nor am I anyone's mistress. Cocoa Banana gave me this opportunity out of compassion and generosity. Now, I'll field some questions."

"You said that the authorities called Kim Possible when they caught you dealing narcotics," one of the reporters asked. "Why did they call her to apprehend you?"

"Kim's partner, Ron Stoppable, is very good at taking unarmed people out without hurting anyone. The only thing that the police knew was that someone was peddling Pump in a very aggressive manner. They were also sure that I was unarmed, since I wasn't using a weapon to force sales. Because of this, they called in Kim and Ron."

"I'm hoping that you can shed some light on the incident in which you were attacked last year," another asked.

"I can't do that," Bonnie interrupted. "The people who attacked me haven't been sentenced yet, so I'm keeping my mouth shut until they have."

"I've heard rumors that you have a room to yourself," a photographer, who decided to stand in as a reporter, chimed in. "While the rest of the models have roommates. Does this have anything to do with your status as a recovered junkie?"

"The short answer is yes," Bonnie answered, thinking quickly to come up with a plausible story. "Some of the models are known party girls so everyone involved thought it best to separate me, at least a little bit, from the lifestyle."

"Do you agree that you're in danger of becoming a junkie, once again?" The same photographer added.

"Let's get something straight," Bonnie snapped back, throwing the last vestiges of the former social queen away. "I'm not a _recovered_ junkie, I'm a _recovering_ junkie. I have to face that temptation every hour, every day. So to answer your question, yes, I'll spend the rest of my life in danger of relapsing."

"You've been seen partying in some of the trendiest clubs in Europe," he added. "But I don't recall any reports of you acting drunk or out of control. Does this have anything to do with your determination to keep clean?"

"It has everything to do with it," Bonnie smiled at the photographer. "I love to dance and I love to meet new people, so I go to the clubs. I just stick to iced tea and water when I go."

"I've heard that your boyfriend is accompanying you on this tour," another chimed in. "Does this have anything to do with your special circumstances?"

"Billy is a godsend," Bonnie replied. "First of all, he's a wonderful companion and helps keep me on the straight and narrow when things get tense. Secondly," here, she gave Rita a hard look. "Some people have speculated about just what sort of _services_ I'm rendering in order to stay on the tour. We thought that having my boyfriend with me would silence most of those rumors."

There were only a few questions after that, which Bonnie answered while thanking Club Banana for the opportunity. Rita became visibly agitated while the discussion continued while Will Du became more relaxed. Finally, the odd assortment of photographers and critics ran out of questions. Bonnie thanked everyone for listening to her and returned to the backstage area, with Rita on her heels.

"You think you've won this one," the older woman snarled at the brunette. "But I'll get you yet. You'll pay for this!"

"Pay for what?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Rockwalker…"

"Rockwaller!"

"Whatever! Nobody…_nobody_ makes Rita Richards look like a fool! You don't have the backing that your little friend Kim has! You're going down! I'll find your flaw and when I do, you'll be off the tour and back in that little spot on the map that you crawled out of!"

"I lived there for eighteen years," Bonnie sniffed back. "It wasn't all that bad, I can live there again."

"Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie," Rita shook her head. "I'll give you a pass on this one, since you're so young. Living in Middleworld…"

"Middleton!"

"Whatever, might not seem all that bad right now but you want to be where the action's at! Why live in some middle-class, out in the middle of nowhere town when you can be in a Los Angeles or Manhattan penthouse? Kid, you have the looks to make it just about anywhere you want…if you have the right in and I can give you that in."

"And all I have to do is tell a couple of dirty little secrets about my fellow models?"

"Or Cocoa Banana, or Possible, or her boyfriend."

"What if there aren't any filthy secrets? What if the best I have is one of the headlining models smoking two cigarettes at the same time or that Kim picks her nose when she doesn't think anyone's looking?"

"Bonnie, that's why you talk to me! I can take the awkward little secrets and turn them into the kind of scandals that my viewers tune in to hear about! You'll become famous, as well. We both know that in the entertainment industry, the only bad publicity is no publicity."

"No thanks," Bonnie sniffed. "I'm finally putting my life together. I hardly need another quick money and/or fame scheme to screw it up again."

"It isn't an option," Rita smirked back. "Time for a lesson about the real world, kid. You're either stepping on someone else on the way to the top or someone else is stepping on you. You've got one last chance, you can either climb with me or be my stepping stone."

"I'll take my chances."

"Your choice kid. You might have come out on top today but you have your flaws, everyone does. Even Jesus had his Judas…and you're no Jesus. Some day, someone's going to want his or her palm crossed with silver and I'll be there. Just to give you fair warning, I'll be keeping my eye out for you. Anything you do…ANYTHING…"

Rita spun and stalked off, leaving a fuming Bonnie in her wake. The brunette wasn't alone for very long.

"You spun a pretty good tale back there," Will told her, after checking to make sure that nobody was close enough to overhear. "I had to do some quick texting so that Cocoa Banana will back up the details if anyone asks him. I have to admit that your stories were logical and easy to support. Now, can you tell me why you chose to call an unauthorized, impromptu press conference when we're undercover?"

"I h-h-had to," Bonnie sobbed, more shaken by Rita's threat of constant surveillance than she cared to admit. "She was about to start spewing rumors about me and that would have put the spotlight on us. How long would our cover last if that bi…witch…started to dig for dirt on me?"

"Probably not very long," Du nodded. "I guess you didn't have much choice. Good job, but you're not exactly an A list celebrity, so why was she targeting you?"

"She wanted me to be her stepping stone. She wanted me to start giving up secrets on the other models and since I didn't, she threatened to go after me. She's still got me in her sights."

Bonnie told Du the whole story, scarcely aware that the agent had draped an arm over her shoulders and guided her out of the building.

"You did the right thing," he comforted her. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. You had to make a snap decision and you made a pretty good one."

"Thanks," Bonnie sobbed, her emotions now getting the better of her. "But what are we going to do now? That…_woman_…is going to keep hounding me until she finds something…anything and then she's going to blow it all out of proportion. When that happens, other people are going to start looking at me…at _us_…then what will happen?"

"Rocky, relax," Will murmured, both comforting her and warning her that they might be overheard. "What you need is a good meal, then a nice, relaxing soak in a Jacuzzi, then a night out."

"Is that reporter giving you problems?" Trudy Dementor asked her American friend, as she and Elisabeth Minated approached. "If she is, I can arrange for something…unpleasant…to happen to her."

"No!" Bonnie almost shrieked. "It's not that bad! It's just that she's trying to dig up some dirt on me. She's going to be hounding me for the rest of the tour and with two weeks off, I'm not going to be able to avoid her."

"We were going to see if you wanted to attend some clubs and parties with us over the break," Elisabeth told her. "But if she were to see you spending time us, who are on the fringe of legality, she might get some more half-stories to turn into rumor."

"Not to mention bring more attention on us that we like," Trudy admitted.

"Right now, I just want to have a relaxing evening then just vanish for the next couple of weeks," Bonnie sighed.

"I have the perfect idea!" Elly blurted, with a snap of her fingers. "Why don't you come out to the island? You'll be safe from Richards and her cronies. We have music, dancing, sunny beaches…everything we need for a two-week party!"

"I thought you'd be looking forward to getting off of the island," Bonnie replied, trying to not seem overly eager to accept the invitation.

"The same old island is new and fun, when you have new friends with you," Ellie smiled back. "You've been there before! You know that Senior makes sure his guests enjoy themselves."

"It sounds like a girls' vacation," Will commented. "I'll catch back up to you when you return to the mainland."

"Oh no you don't," Trudy admonished the undercover agent. "Your girlfriend needs to relax and that means some couple time, as well. Don't worry about Ellie and me, we both have some male companions who will accept an invitation. We'll simply have the party where the press can't find us."

"It sounds wonderful, Billy," Bonnie used her pleading tone, playing the part of a girlfriend trying to talk a reluctant boyfriend into a trip.

"As long as this man…Mr. Senior…doesn't mind, I'm all for going," Will shrugged. "I don't know how he'll react to a swarm of young adults invading his island."

"He'll be delighted!" Ellie smiled, pulling out her phone. The young, semi-legal estate manager started to dial. "I'll just arrange to have some additional supplies shipped out. Senior loves guests. Even though he isn't a dancer and isn't in to our music scene, he loves to see young people enjoying themselves."

"Great!" Will smiled. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as his plane gets back here, maybe an hour. You should have just enough time to pack your bags."

Bonnie gave a squeal of happiness and jumped into Du's arms. In the back of her mind, she reflected how ironic it was that Rita Richards' threats might have made it possible for her to complete her mission.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" Lord Montgomery Fiske asked the crew in a deceptively mild tone. While he actually enjoyed getting away from his desk now and then, he couldn't let the smugglers know this.

"This is weird," the gang's leader told the consultant, in a strangely respectful tone. Several months ago, the man had tried to show off his machismo by roughing up the thin, bookish Englishman. The resulting pummeling had gone a long way towards educating him in respect, if not manners.

"Why are we smuggling something into country? He demanded. "These boxes came from out of country! We've never brought anything, other than money, into the country before!"

"Yeah," one of the younger men added. "And why are we bringing the stuff to a house and just leaving? Whenever we drop stuff off, it's usually in a warehouse and there's someone there to check it, y'know, to make sure we didn't pocket anything. Are we just gonna drop off the crates and leave?"

"Young man, are you suggesting that some of us are less than honorable?" Fiske's mild question prompted a round of subdued laughter.

"Besides that, I swore something was moving inside one of the crates," the young man concluded. "Something's weird about this whole job."

"Ah, curiosity," Fiske drawled. "That uniquely mammalian trait that prompts us to investigate what's just beyond what our senses can perceive. This trait has proven instrumental to our dominance as a species. However, this very trait can be our undoing."

The band's youngest member looked confused, while the older members hid their smirks, knowing the direction the cultured, witty man was going.

"It is in your nature as a primate to be curious," Fiske continued. "But it is up to your intelligence to both determine when you should override your baser instincts and then to navigate an alternate course of action."

Several of the band were now chuckling openly at the confused, young laborer.

"Okay, I'm doing something stupid!" He snapped. "Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"Excellent, young man, I must actually compliment you! Your predecessor," here, Fiske gave the band's leader an amused glance, "would have attempted to teach me a lesson of his own. Instead, you ask me to get to the point…so I shall. Young man, our employer is not paying you to be curious about what you haul. In fact, it's better that you keep yourself ignorant. Too many of your predecessors have become curious about what they are moving and have decided that if they pocketed some of the cargo, they could sell it for a substantial, additional income. Inevitably, we catch such individuals and are forced to take certain, unpleasant actions. After we take such actions, we are forced to hire additional personnel. This is how you acquired your current livelihood. Trust me, there are plenty of young men who are hoping that your curiosity overrides your common sense, leaving your job vacant."

"I get the picture," the young man shuddered. "The best way to keep my hands out of the merchandise is to keep my mind out of the crates."

"Impressive! You've found a wonderful way of describing the situation!"

"He made a good point, earlier," the band's headman insisted. "We're keeping our hands out of the crates but if…whoever it is…claims that we tampered with his 'merchandise', the boss will give him our bronzed _cajones_ as a token of good will."

"You need not worry about your personal cargo," Fiske assured the man. "Whenever our clients forgo inspection, they assume a certain risk. That's why I'm reasonably certain that whatever we have just unloaded is very valuable…to certain people. Either that, or the crates are trapped in some manner."

The handful of burly, young men put distance between themselves and the crates upon hearing the last bit of information.

"At any rate, you are almost done here. All that is left is for us to secure the domicile…assuming that you have already taken care of the other details?"

"The place has water, electricity and phone service," the headman answered the implied question. "We double checked already. Also, the food's been delivered and put in the refrigerators. Why would anyone want that much beef and fruit delivered to an empty house?"

"You're showing curiosity again," Fiske informed the man, shaking his head and waggling his finger in a 'tisk-tisk' manner. "And it's bordering on unhealthy. Now, do you have the keys?"

"Right here," the man held up a pair of house keys. "We just changed the locks, as per our instructions."

"Excellent! Leave them on the table and head for your local watering hole. Our boss insisted that I be the last one out of the building and for some reason, I have this urge to buy a round of drinks."

That got the band moving. Fiske made sure that they were all out of the house before double checking all of the doors and windows. Satisfied that he had executed his assignment, he locked the kitchen door behind him as he left. Soon, the band's jovial banter faded away, leaving the house's interior in silence.

But not for long.

A claw punctured one of the crates and slashed a hole through the side. A cramped, wobbly Aviarius emerged from the container.

"Too bad you decided to show honor tonight, Fiske," he hissed to himself. "If you or your fledglings had opened the crates, I would have been forced to eliminate all of you and that would have made things easier for everyone. Still, Go's decided that nobody's going to touch you…yet."

Aviarius dismissed his frustration and set about freeing his underlings. The sedatives Miss Go had supplied had made the trip bearable, but all of the flying primates would need some air time to regain their edge. Tonight was out of the question, since the sedatives' lingering effects would make flight suicidal for the next several hours. Tomorrow night, after dark, they would perform an aerial reconnaissance of their sparsely populated neighborhood. The next night, they would start scouting Fiske's home. In three days, Aviarius would be ready to move on Fiske, whenever Go told him to move.

Aviarius didn't know what Amy was waiting for, or why. He figured that it wasn't really his business to guess. He snorted in amusement. The fact that Fiske's words of wisdom to a young smuggler was good advise for him was almost as ironic as Fiske himself assuring his own doom's safe delivery.

19


	21. Revenge

Chapter 21: Revenge

Ron stepped out of the dressing room and approached the Upperton University swimming pool. He paused for a few moments, watching his fiancée swimming laps. At this early hour, he would much rather be either sleeping or eating. Come to think of it, his favorite activity would have been to be sleeping and dreaming about eating. However, watching Kim swimming laps was a pretty good consolation.

It wasn't that she was wearing a provocative swimsuit. Actually, her competition style one-piece was modest. However, like he had noticed a couple of months ago when he took Hanna skating on Christmas Eve, Kim looked her best when she was dressed casually and doing something she enjoyed. As with any physical activity, she was the picture of grace and efficiency; her smooth movements giving only the slightest hint of the sheer strength Ron knew her limbs possessed. Finally shaking himself out of the very pleasant contemplation, he walked up to the edge of the pool and waited for Kim to reach the end of her lap.

While waiting, he gave the on-duty lifeguard a slight wave. The collegiate junior waved back, with a guilty expression. Ron had no doubt that the lifeguard had also been staring at Kim. To his surprise, he was actually all right with the idea. If he couldn't stop staring at Kim, he couldn't blame another guy for not being able to peel his eyes away. Besides, the guy was supposed to watch the swimmers and Kim was the only person in the pool.

"Aren't you a little overdressed for swimming laps?" Kim asked, as soon as she reached the end of the pool. Ron was in mission gear.

"I just got a call," Ron shrugged. "Dr. Director wants me to talk to someone. She says that it'll be a guy talk kind of thing and at GJ Headquarters, so it's probably best that I take it solo."

"Hey!" A shout sounded from his pocket.

"Sorry Rufus, it's best that the two of us deal with it."

"Fair enough," Kim shrugged.

"Y'know KP," Ron mused. "This isn't a very typical way of spending the first day of spring break. I mean, swimming is typical but it should be at a warm beach, not in a university pool."

"The squad has competitions coming up," Kim reminded him. "So I have to be here to work out. Since we work out in the afternoons, it gives me time to swim laps in the morning."

"Okay, that makes sense but why the ice?" Ron gestured to a corner of the poolroom, where a pushcart held several large, empty plastic bags. "Why did you dump four hundred pounds of ice into the pool before you started swimming?"

"I thought you were going to join me."

"Okay, that one went right over my head."

Kim glanced at the lifeguard, noting that he had hopped out of his elevated seat and wandered to the far corner of the room once she had started talking to Ron. He was clearly a decent sort, giving them some privacy once they started to talk.

"Ms. Hatchett's going to be staying in the house all through Spring Break," Kim told her fiancé.

"I knew that."

"Haven't you been feeling a little…frustrated…because she's around?"

"More than a little," Ron admitted.

"Cold water sort of squelches the drive, at least in me."

"I'm still not getting the picture."

"Let's just say that if you were to put on your suit and jump into a warm pool with me, it would be like dangling a raw steak in front of a shark."

Kim delivered her message with an absolutely smoldering expression, causing most of Ron's higher brain functions to shut down.

"Head in the game, Ron," she told him. "Remember your mission."

"Uh…yeah…mission."

"When's your ride picking you up?"

"There won't be a ride," Ron grumbled, forcing his brain to operate again. "Dr. Director said that I should just walk towards the Student Union building and GJ would take care of the rest."

"Transport tube?"

"Most likely. I _hate_ those things!"

"Buck up Ron, it's for a good cause. Are we still on for sparring this evening?"

"We should be. I can't picture a 'talk to a troubled youth' mission taking very long. If Lisa doesn't drive you into exhaustion, I'll be ready."

"Good enough. One last thing."

Kim gave a strong kick and rose up out of the water, catching the collar of Ron's shirt and giving him a quick peck on the mouth. Ron was reminded of a trained dolphin jumping from a tank to grab a treat from a trainer.

Kim went back to swimming laps and Ron forced himself to leave. As the blonde boy expected, halfway between the gym and the Student Union, the ground fell out from underneath him, leaving him sliding down a smooth tube. The tube deposited him into a cylindrical canister, which a robot arm inserted into another tube. Ron shrieked in terror as Global Justice's underground transportation system shot him from under Upperton to its headquarters under Middleton, in a matter of moments.

"No way," he gasped, staggering out of the canister and leaning against the wall while he fought down his nausea. "There's no way those tubes are more cost effective than just leasing some busses."

"Ah, Mr. Stoppable," Dr. Director addressed him, stepping into the receiving area. "I trust your trip was uneventful."

Ron answered her with a dirty look.

"I see. Anyway, I thought I'd brief you on the way to the meeting room. This way please."

Ron fell in step with the assertive redhead, trying not to stumble.

"Global Justice doesn't concern itself with most criminals," she began, as she strode purposefully down a corridor. "Our interest is with those criminals whose activities threaten worldwide stability. Therefore, the apprehension, conviction, punishment and rehabilitation of most criminals, even would-be murderers, do not concern us…unless such cases affect Global Justice operations."

"We are also a secretive operation," she continued. "Certainly, the general public knows that we _exist_, but the general public doesn't know the extent of our operations, resources or personnel. We are even secretive within the organization, taking care to distribute information strictly on a need to know basis."

By this time, the pair had reached Dr. Director's office. Dr. Director ushered Ron inside and motioned for him to take a seat. Ron stood next to the chair.

"A case in point is Drew Lipsky, the former Dr. Drakken," Dr. Director explained, rounding her desk and settling into a chair. Once she was seated, Ron took the chair she had offered him. Betty Director smiled at the teen's display of manners and continued her lecture. "Within Global Justice, only myself, Will Du, and two administrators know that he has become the new Jack Hench. Outside of Global Justice, you, Kim, Shego and Montgomery Fiske are aware of his new life. Drew's cousin Edward, otherwise known as Motor Ed, knows that Drew is somehow affiliated with Global Justice, but he doesn't know the details. Drew's personal assistant, Hank Perkins, and four other Henchco administrators also know Drew's identity. Beyond the small group I just detailed, the general public, to include the President of the United States and the Secretary General of the United Nations, has no idea of Drew Lipsky's whereabouts."

"Unfortunately for me, Drew Lipsky cannot live in an informational vacuum and remain effective. He has a small number of people who he cares about, deeply. His mother hasn't been a major problem, since it has been an easy matter to launder some of his profits and funnel them to her under the guise of royalties he earned as a radio talk-show doctor. Shego is perfectly capable of handling herself, especially in partnership with Lord Fiske. I drop Drew the occasional piece of information about the duo, just to keep him motivated. However, one of his former compatriots could prove to be a distraction."

"Motor Ed," Ron supplied.

"Exactly," Dr. Director nodded. "To his credit, Drew is very concerned about his cousin, hoping that at least one Lipsky can put together something resembling a productive, respectable life. However, Edward is having some problems."

"I don't suppose this could have something to do with the relationship issue conversation Kim had with SADI a couple of weeks ago?"

"This has everything to do with that relationship. Ron, Ed seems to be infatuated with SADI. I'll admit that I don't understand the mutual attraction but I know that it has the potential of getting Ed in a great deal of trouble."

"Uh, Dr. Director. I assume that you've taken a biology course so you should know that it's impossible for Ed and SADI to…"

"I'm perfectly aware of biology's limitations,' Dr. Director interrupted Ron, in a very stern tone. "I'm talking about the legal situation. SADI is, legally, Dr. Freeman's possession. Every time Ed touches the car, he's technically trespassing."

"Even if SADI drives to his garage?" He inquired, trying to understand.

"That's the only thing that has saved him up to this point. If you were to drop your wallet in someone's house, very few people would fault him for looking through it to find your address. Since SADI is driving herself to Ed's home, Ed has a shield."

"I sense a "but" approaching."

"But he's starting to abuse that shield," Dr. Director had to work very hard to keep from smiling at Ron's comment. "Mr. Stoppable, what would you do if you were to find someone else's property in your yard…assuming you could contact that person?"

"I'd call him and let him know that it's at my place."

"Exactly. That is the proper, responsible action. Ed isn't letting Dr. Freeman know that SADI is in his garage. The police are hesitant to make a complaint since SADI is clearly driving into the garage without any help from Ed. Still, before too much longer, Dr. Freeman may file suit in a civil court. Such a suit will have a negative impact upon Ed's parole status, which will have a negative impact upon Ed and, by extension, Drew."

"Which affects your organization," Ron concluded. "Now that you've explained the problem I'm wondering just where I come in."

"Like I said earlier, Global Justice is a highly secretive, compartmentalized agency. While I could bring in one or more competent, highly trained counselors, such counselors will inevitably wonder why Global Justice is taking an interest in Ed Lipsky. That's a major problem with running secret operations; you want intelligent people in your operation but intelligent people tend to deduce more than you want them to."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute! You want _me_ to talk to Motor Ed about his relationship issues?" Ron shook his head. "Dr. Director, are you aware that Ed's something like twelve years older than me and he has an engineering degree?"

"Indeed, Mr. Stoppable, I'm aware of both issues."

"So how in the heck am _I_ going to straighten him out? He's been there and done that, while... I haven't." Ron started to feel a bit uncomfortable admitting this. "I don't think that he's going to take any advice that a teenage boy gives him very seriously…seriously."

"You may be surprised, Mr. Stoppable. Edward Lipsky has a very odd mind. He is capable of making use of an engineer's analytical mind…when it suits him to do so. While he is much more interested in tricking out his rides and having fun, he's beginning to realize that he might be going about it in a wrong manner."

"And I'm doing things right?" The blond replied scrunching up his face in confusion.

"Exactly, Mr. Stoppable, compare your life with his. Edward is a mechanical genius, yet the only notoriety he has earned has been for a string of petty crimes and the attempted murder of a teenager. You have neither his education nor his aptitude, yet you enjoy a positive, public perception."

"Uh, Dr. Director? I don't think most people know I exist."

"You'd be surprised again, Mr. Stoppable. While the mass public doesn't know your name, most people think of 'the young man who helps Kim Possible' in a positive light. Anyway, Ed realizes that his attempts to 'show the man' and seek self-gratification left him living under a New Jersey junkyard, before being incarcerated. He contrasts himself with you; you don't have his mechanical aptitude, his engineering education or his imposing physique, yet you've performed feats he hasn't. You defeated both Warrick Loward and DNAmy, even though Warrick easily overwhelmed Ed. You also have a stunningly attractive fiancé…congratulations by the way."

"Thanks," Ron smiled.

"Anyway, Ed is bright enough to realize that since he has skills and physical gifts that you do not, he must be utilizing his assets poorly. Knowing that you've applied your assets in a more efficient manner than him, he'll listen to you."

"I still don't know if I'm the guy for this job."

"I'd just like you to get him to talk. That's the key to good counseling, getting the subject to analyze his own situation and work towards a solution. Also, you are not a law enforcement official, so he might be willing to open up to you. In any event, his cousin will be here shortly and with any luck, Drew will be able to talk him into a saner course of action."

"I'll give it a try."

"Thank you, Ron. He's waiting through the door to your left."

"Woa, one more question? Will any be watching or recording what we say?"

"No, you have my word. Unless Mr. Lipsky admits to an illegal action that is…serious…it won't go any further than that room."

Dr. Director pushed a button on her desk, causing the aforementioned door to open. Ron stood up and walked through, finding himself in a conference room. Ed sat in one of the chairs, with his hands behind his head and his feet on the table. The big blonde man got to his feet when he saw Ron.

"Whoa, Skinny Dude!" He said, offering Ron his hand. "I never thought I'd see you here, seriously. How's the bike handling?"

"Great," Ron answered, watching with some amazement has his large paw simply vanished inside the bear trap that Ed called a hand. "Of course, as cold as it's been, I haven't been riding much."

"Yeah, that's seriously bogus. If I hadn't put a Harley engine in my snow blower, I'd never get to ride."

"A Harley engine? In a snow blower?"

"It's a sweet ride, Skinny Dude! That baby can seriously throw the snow!"

"That sounds like fun," Ron mused, imagining what the machine must feel like. Then, he forced his mind back to the matter at hand. "So, how's the parole going?"

"Dude, it's been running smooth, for the most part. Some of the neighbors didn't dig my tunes, but I dealt, you know? I like my job and it pays some serious coin. The officer even let me build a robot for the Robot Rumble, so I had some serious fun doing that. The only real problem has been with Mr. Smutz."

"Is he anyone I know?"

"Naw, he's some seriously stuffy dude who lives something like three blocks away from my pad."

"So what's his beef?"

"I think he's seriously cheesed off about getting hit with the snow."

"Of course," Ron muttered. "So, everything's going fine?"

"Seriously no," Ed admitted, dropping back onto his chair. "I've got some serious woman troubles."

"Or car troubles?" Ron asked, spinning a chair around and sitting backwards, leaning on the back.

"I guess you've heard about it. Bro, I can't understand how I got into this mess."

"Care to tell me the story?"

"Well, I'm waiting for my cuz, but I might as well. It's been awhile since I've had a friendly ear. It all started at the Middleton Robot Rumble. I had seriously smacked down this little guy with red hair and a whiney voice when I saw this total babe. I went over and talked to her and found out she was a serious brain as well as a serious babe! Anyway, Red's old man and her bothers showed up and the old boy wasn't too happy about the way I tried to take her out. I can't exactly blame him," here, Ed's shoulders slumped and he stared at the floor.

"Hey, we've dealt with it," Ron told him. "I think I know the babe you're talking about but how did this…hook you up…with SADI?"

"Well, Red's old man decided to seriously bury the hatchet he had with me, so he invited me to hang with him and some of the other brainy types that chill out after a rumble. We get to this café and while I'm headin' in, making sure to keep close to the babe, I hear this engine just a bit out of tune. Since the guy driving the wheels was one of the brains and they had been seriously cool with me, I offered to deal with it. That's when the car talked to me."

"Okay…" Ron said, once it became obvious Ed wasn't about to elaborate. "How did a car talking to you make you forget Vivian?"

"You DO know who she is!" Ed grinned, "she's a complete babe, isn't she?"

"Yes, but back to you and SADI."

"Okay, I've worked on my share of rides, seriously. I mean, I've made all kinds of rides, from the cheapest subcompact to the sweetest luxury model, purr like a kitten or roar like a lion, if you know what I mean. But this was the first time that a ride actually told me how well I was doing the service. I seriously didn't know how much knowing how much she was digging it would make me dig it…dig it?"

"I think I get the picture," Ron mumbled, thinking about a wonderful week in Upperton, before Ms. Hatchett arrived.

"That doesn't run dude, you either know it, or you don't. I mean, there I was doing what I really wanted to be doing and knowing that she wanted me doing it. She's telling me that it's good for her and that makes me dig it even more and that made me work even harder. That makes her dig it even more and that makes me dig it more. I'm digging it, she's digging it and I'm digging that she's digging it. She's digging that I'm digging that she's digging it and I'm digging that she's digging that I'm digging that she's digging it. Then she's digging that I'm digging…"

Ron's awareness seemed to shrink away under the unrelenting assault.

* * *

"Ah, Drew, you've arrived right on time," Dr. Director addressed her underling, as he stepped into her office. "I trust you had an uneventful trip?"

"The first leg, on a passenger liner, was just fine," the blue man grumbled. "The last three miles, via your blasted transport tubes, nearly made me soil myself! Why can't Global Justice make use of elevators, stairwells or buses? They would be considerably less expensive!"

"We have our reasons," Dr. Director informed him. "I assume that you've read your briefing report and know why I've called you here."

"Yes, there seems to be some trouble with my cousin and his…somewhat…relationship."

"Relationship? Drew, he's fallen in love with SADI!"

"I assure you, that I've read that portion."

"So you know how unorthodox this happens to be."

"It's a little out of the ordinary," Drew shrugged.

"A little? Drew, I don't think you understand! Your cousin has fallen in love with an inanimate object!'

"Yes, it can be quite disconcerting…the first couple of times."

"Wha…Drew…you?"

"Okay, fine! I admit that I've lost my heart to a non-breathing female before!" The blue man confessed. "I was young, away from home for the first time and coprocessors had just come out. It was confusing, overwhelming! She was such an upgrade over the 8088s and 8086s that I was used to!"

"Coprocessors…8088s…Drew, did you fall in love with a computer?"

"Everyone I knew had the same, narrow view that you have right now! 'It'll never work,' they said. "She's silicon while you're carbon. Her keyboard will give you Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and you can't handle her high voltage before her step-down transformer. Besides that, she's bi…nary.' I sometimes wonder if we could have made it work with a little support, rather than ridicule."

Betty held her head in her hands as she asked, "but Drew…a computer?"

"In the end, it just didn't work. We had some good times; we generated brilliant revelations and explored our differences, but we just couldn't interface. After a time, she refused my downloads and linked with some glitzy mainframe. I hear they went on and generated a whole batch of innovative subroutines. I'm happy for her, I really am but I sometimes wonder where I'd be now if it had worked for us…"

"Drew!" Betty snapped at him. "This is no time to reflect on past…romances. We're here to deal with your cousin!"

"From what I understand, he's developing a consensual relationship. What's wrong with that?"

"She's a machine!"

"So? Eddie relates to machines better than to people."

"But a machine? Can't you see how wrong it is?"

"A relationship with no chance of an unwanted pregnancy or an STD? A relationship with no conflicts due to religion, ethnicity or other demographics? You're correct, Dr. Director, I cannot see how wrong this is."

"Fine! SADI is Dr. Freeman's property! Every time Ed…performs his checks and services, without Dr. Freeman's permission, he's trespassing. If someone can prove that he's influencing her to leave Dr. Freeman's vicinity, he's going to be guilty of grand theft. This will have devastating consequences for a parolee!"

"Okay, I'm beginning to see the problem."

"Thank you. Now, can you see how terribly important it is that you convince your cousin to break off his…romance…with SADI? It's only a matter of time before his natural enthusiasm takes this to a point where he's going to be re-incarcerated and _**that**_ is going to distract you!"

"Very well, I shall attempt to make him see reason."

"Excellent! He's through that door." Dr. Director motioned towards the door Ron had recently went through and reached for her hidden release.

"What? You're not going to accompany me?"

"I'm an authority figure," Dr. Director explained. "And your cousin doesn't open up to my sort. I'm hoping that you will be able to make him see reason and thus prevent Global Justice or any other law enforcement agency from becoming involved…at least officially."

"I guess that makes sense."

Dr. Director opened the door to the Conference Room and the former Dr. Drakken stepped through. He found his cousin animatedly telling the buffoon something.

"…and she's digging that I'm digging that she's digging that I'm digging that she's digging…"

The conference table's highly polished surface afforded the former villain a slightly distorted view of Stoppable's face. The youngster appeared to completely mesmerized by the younger Lipsky's tirade. Realizing that he would have no better opportunity, Drew Lipsky closed in, undetected, behind Ron Stoppable and took his revenge.

As she promised Ron, Doctor Director had turned off the conference room's cameras and recording devices, giving give the three men a modicum of privacy. However, she clicked on the microphones too monitor the conversation, just in time to hear Ron Stoppable shriek. Thinking that the two Lipsky's had assaulted the teen, she readied her stun watch and barged through the door…

…only to be confronted by the sight of Ron doing what appeared to be some kind of jig while Drew smirked and Ed stared in open-mouthed wonder.

"…that's only a small piece of what I owe you, boy," Drew was gloating. "This doesn't settle the score, not by a long shot!"

"What's going on here!" Dr. Director demanded.

"It was completely gnarly," Ed chuckled. "Cousin Drew seriously turned the skinny dude's boxers into a thong!"

"Drew!" She demanded of her subordinate. "Did you just give Ron Stoppable…a wedgie?"

"He started it!" Drew protested. "At least I didn't see fit to tie his limbs with the garment!"

"Urmph…meep…" was all Ron managed to say.

"Mr. Stoppable, the door behind you is a washroom, if you need to…adjust…certain…things," Betty told the younger man. She glared at the two Lipsky's, as Stoppable shuffled off, to the aforementioned room. "We're here to deal with Edward's self-control issues, not indulge in petty pranks and revenge!"

"He started it!" Drew repeated. "I had to be cut out of my undergarments and when that happened, the elastic snapped me in the…"

"**Enough!**" Betty roared, her voice belying her slight frame. "Sit! Both of you! As soon as Mr. Stoppable…recovers…we'll deal with the real issue." The head of Global Justice glared at the two, now thoroughly cowed, cousins and wondered if all males could be so petty at times.

* * *

"It was so nice of you to invite us out here for the down time," Bonnie gushed at Ellie.

"I think I should thank you," the slightly older woman shrugged her shoulders. "It will be nice to have someone besides Junior and (shudder) Camille around. Trudy makes it out whenever she can, but she's been busy lately."

"Bite your tongue," the younger woman chided her friend. "Sorry Bonnie, but I still need to keep some secrets. I'm not completely on the right side of the law."

"I don't care," Bonnie smiled back. "What someone else does is her own business. I just want to have some fun!"

"That's something I can do without worrying about security," Trudy agreed. "Look, we're almost there!"

Bonnie and Will looked out of the private jet's windows to see Senior's Island approaching. Since there was no other air traffic, they were quickly on the ground. Servants quickly wheeled a portable stairway to the jet's hatch and Ellie led the small procession down the ladder, where Bonnie saw a familiar figure. Deciding that it was only polite to thank her host, the brunette steeled herself and approached him, not noticing Ellie's subtle gesture to stay away.

"Junior," Bonnie addressed the young man in front of her. "I would like to thank you for letting me stay on your island."

"I'm not Junior," the young man replied. While the high-pitched voice was just like Bonnie remembered, the accent was American.

"Then…" she stammered.

"It's me, Camille," Junior's eyes rolled up, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that she should be wandering the island's airstrip, in Junior's form, as the sun set. "I've gotta go!"

With that, the shapeshifter ambled casually towards another building, where Bonnie spotted the real Junior's (at least she assumed it was the real Junior's) silhouette.

"Come," Ellie ordered the small group. "You don't want to be around here in a few minutes…trust me. I'll take you to Senior so that you can thank your host properly. He'll be glad to see you."

"Just what…" Bonnie began to ask.

"Junior has this fantasy about meeting a gorgeous stranger at the airport and experiencing a night of wild passion," Ellie shuddered. "And he considers himself the most gorgeous being in the universe. The two of them play out the fantasy, at least as close as they can on the island, about once a week. Trust me, you don't want to be there when they perform the 'love at first sight' moment." She shuddered again.

"I'll believe you on that one," Bonnie muttered, noticing that the normally unflappable Du was looking a little ill. The faux couple followed the consultant to Senor Senior Senior's office, where they were immediately admitted.

"Ah, Miss Rockwaller," the elderly man greeted his guests from behind his desk. The old man rose slowly and Bonnie nearly gasped at how frail he now looked. "It's wonderful to see you again. I understand that Miss Minated has invited you to stay for a short time. It's very kind of you to keep her company. I fear she has too few companions to associate with here on my island."

"Mr. Senior, You're always the charmer," Bonnie smiled back. "Extending hospitality while making it sound like I'm doing you a favor. I really appreciate you letting me stay here." She quickly sat down in the chair the old man indicated, so that he could return to his own seat.

"Your manners are only surpassed by your beauty, my dear," he countered. "My island is yours while you are here. All of you, please let me know if there is anything I can provide to make your stay more enjoyable."

"Perhaps you could answer a question," Will replied.

"What is your question, young man?"

"I understand that you indulge in certain activities that you…like to keep secret. Would you be so kind to let us know where we shouldn't go, so that we don't abuse your hospitality?"

"A very considerate young man," Senior remarked to Bonnie. "I must commend you upon your choice of companionship." Turning back to Du, he answered, "such areas that hold my secrets are always locked. In my business, if one does not safeguard his own secrets, he does not deserve them. Simply refrain from passing through any locked door and you will not abuse my hospitality. Do any of you have any questions? No? Then please feel free to enjoy the humble luxuries I have provided."

As manners dictated, the frail man struggled to his feet to see his guests out of his office. All of the young people left as quickly as possible, so that he could sit once again.

"Let's all meet at the beach in an hour," Ellie suggested to the others. "The staff will have the buffet ready by that time and my boyfriend should be here by then."

"You have a boyfriend?" Bonnie asked. "Details! I want details!"

"He's on a trial basis right now," Ellie answered. With a sidelong look at Du, she continued, "I haven't found a permanent one, like you have. We'll just have to see if he's ready for the promotion."

"What about you?" Bonnie asked Trudy. "Do you have an applicant for the title of 'Trudy Dementor's steady boyfriend' showing up?"

"Not this time," the younger woman shrugged. "It's fine, I'll just have to track one down for the next party."

A butler showed up and showed Bonnie and Will to their suite while another showed Trudy to hers. The criminal physicist had no sooner closed the door behind her than a heavy knock sounded upon it. She recognized Hendle's knock.

"Boss," the big man rumbled to his employer, as soon as she opened the door. "Could I have a word with you before you get ready for the party?"

"Of course," she stepped back and let him inside her spacious accommodations.

"There's something wrong about Bonnie's boyfriend…Bill," he grumbled, as soon as the door was shut. "Something about him asking Senior where he shouldn't go made me suspect that he wanted to know where he _**should**_ go, if you understand what I'm saying."

"Hendle," she said, rolling her eyes. "We've been meeting with Bonnie and Billy for months. Why the sudden suspicion?"

"This is the first time he has been at one of your bases of operations," he answered. "At the clubs, the only thing he could find out was anything you might have blurted out. Here, you're vulnerable since Elisabeth keeps records of your operations on this island. Now, this mystery man wants to know where he can find Senior's secure locations."

"Is it so hard for you to believe that he wants to make sure that he won't wander someplace that he shouldn't, that he doesn't want to get into trouble?" Trudy was impatient to get to the beach and take a quick swim before the party started.

"Actually, yes," Hendle challenged her. "Boss, the type of young man you and your friends attract aren't the polite, respectful sort. They want to have fun and they want everyone around them to have fun, as well. Now, maybe he's just what you think he is, a guy who wants to know his boundaries so he doesn't step over them, but it's my job to look into things like this. There's also some other things going on."

"Like what?" Trudy asked. She had learned, long ago, to respect her guard's judgement in such matters.

"Okay, there's the fact that Henchco warned us that there's some sort of connection between Club Banana and Global Justice. Bonnie's modeling for Club Banana and this Billy guy's dating her. That provides a link between him and Global Justice."

"Billy to Bonnie to Club Banana to Global Justice," Trudy shook her head. "That's a pretty flimsy link. Besides, Bonnie's on a fashion tour! Henchco reported that Club Banana's going to allow Global Justice agents to operate inside its retail outlets!"

"Not completely true," Hendle countered. "Henchco's report stated that they were _certain_ that Club Banana was cooperating with Global Justice but _suspected_ that it would involve placing agents inside Club Banana stores."

"Okay, Henchco has always been good about separating hard information from supposition," Trudy agreed, taking a seat and gesturing for Hendle to do the same. "What else has you concerned?"

"Several things that don't add up," Hendle replied, gently settling his bulk into a comfortable chair. "Like why Club Banana went out of its way to hire Bonnie for the European Tour."

"Cocoa Banana is sometimes too nice for his own good," Trudy answered. "You saw the impromptu interview Bonnie called. He met her about a year ago and felt sorry for her. This modeling job was done to help her out and it has worked out for both of them."

Trudy wasn't disagreeing with her employee so much as she was goading his reasoning. She had learned that when Hendle became concerned, she would be best served by listening to him. By prompting him to lay out his concerns, she had a good chance of either proving that his concerns were unfounded…or digging up an unpleasant truth.

"Okay, but why Europe?" Hendle retorted, with a tight grin that told Trudy he had already considered her argument. "Currently, Club Banana is also holding a promotional tour across the U.S. If Cocoa wanted to help Bonnie, he could have placed her on the American tour just as easily. Why send her across the Atlantic when you can help her out at home?"

"Okay, that sounds a little suspicious," Trudy admitted.

"Here's something more. Bonnie is still on parole for a crime she committed in the U.S. From what I understand, it is very difficult for a parolee to get permission to cross a state boundary, much less leave the country. While Cocoa Banana is a prominent businessman, I doubt if he'd have the pull to get the various U.S. courts to grant Bonnie permission to leave the country. Even if he did, it should be a time-consuming, expensive and tiring effort. Cocoa Banana wanted Bonnie in Europe so much that he was either willing to expend a great deal of effort to put her here…or he had cooperation from powerful figures within the U.S.'s various law enforcement agencies."

"That seems to be a sensible…and troubling…deduction," Trudy nodded. "Do you have anything else to add?"

"Yes. Bonnie was also on parole when she attended the contest on this very island," Hendle continued. "During that time, she didn't have Cocoa Banana's backing. Of course, Senior himself might have manipulated the courts. That's how Lynn was able to attend."

"But the U.S. authorities arrested Lynn as soon as she returned to the states," Trudy pointed out. "They _**didn't**_ arrest Bonnie. Somehow, someone with a great deal of political power must have arranged for Bonnie to leave the country and return, without any repercussions. Do you have anything else to tell me?"

"Yes. What about…"

"Don't tell me yet," Trudy interrupted. "I'm calling Ellie! You've made some good points and I'm a brilliant physicist, but she's the criminal mastermind.

"That sounds fair enough."

Hendle waited while his employer contacted her friend. Minutes later, the smuggler's daughter arrived.

"What's so important?" She demanded. "We have music, good food, champagne and a crowd of cute guys forming up on the beach."

"There might be a wolf in the fold," Trudy told her, than paused to think a moment. "Maybe that's not a very accurate image. There might be a saint hiding amongst the sinners."

"What are you talking about?" Ellie was clearly confused. Trudy spent several minutes outlining the conversation she had just concluded with her bodyguard.

"…So I called you in here to take advantage of your expertise," she concluded.

"Your guard has made some valid points," Ellie murmured, taking a seat. "Has Bonnie ever complained about checking in with law enforcement officials in the various nations the tour has visited?"

"No," Trudy shrugged. "Why would she visit the police?"

"Standard procedure for paroled felons visiting foreign nations," Ellie answered. "Most of the time, police want to know when a convicted drug dealer is going to be inside their jurisdiction. The paperwork and hassle of 'checking in' can be mind-numbing, time consuming and frustrating. Bonnie doesn't strike me as having a great deal of patience so I think we can conclude that she isn't actually checking in with law enforcement agencies. Since she makes no secret of the fact that she's a former dealer and a recovering addict, we can conclude that the various national police agencies are allowing her to freely enter their countries. Given all of these factors, I think that we have to conclude that an international law enforcement agency is involved."

"Global Justice?" Trudy asked.

"That's one candidate," Ellie admitted. "However, you said that Hendle was about to bring up another point. I'd like to hear it."

"It has to do with Bill, Bonnie's boyfriend," the guard replied. "There's a couple of things about him that make me suspicious."

"Like what?" Ellie and Trudy asked, at the same time.

"First of all, look how quickly he and Bonnie got together," Hendle replied. "When Bonnie competed on this island, she was unattached. A few weeks later, she has hooked up with him to the point that they're sharing a room. Don't you think that's moving a little fast?"

"Hendle, not everyone has had the moral upbringing your father imposed upon you," Trudy sighed. "Not every couple waits two and a half years before…"

"That's not it," Hendle interrupted his employer. "I haven't commented on your dalliances, I've just screened them to keep you safe. However, I've noticed something about such pairings; quick hookups don't tend to last very long and they're usually more about mutual fun than mutual support. I don't have anything definite, but I just think that any couple that hooked up that fast should be playing the field. Bonnie hasn't even looked twice at the large numbers of wealthy, handsome young men that infest the clubs you visit and Bill hasn't responded to any of the young women's flirting."

"Everyone's different," Ellie countered. "Maybe they got tired of playing the field and decided to try some stability. This isn't very much to go on."

"True, so try this; how did he take down two street toughs as quickly as he did, back in Madrid? I checked up on the two guys that jumped Bonnie, they're not just a couple of thugs, they were enforcers for a local loan shark. The typical party boy shouldn't have been able to handle them."

"Maybe he studies martial arts," Trudy shrugged.

"Okay, here's my trump card," Hendle replied. "He took charge of the crime scene. If he were just a typical boyfriend, he would have rushed Bonnie out of the area and back to their room. Instead, he secured the crime scene, made sure she was ready to make a statement and kept things as quiet as he could, which allowed the police to catch the other model by surprise. There's no way he should have behaved in such a professional manner. I've spent most of my adult life on the other side of the law, but I can recognize a capable operative on the enforcement side. Bill acted like a cop securing a crime scene for the detectives."

"Now, you have something," Trudy admitted. "Let's put everything together. First, we have Bonnie traveling to this island to compete in the contest, leaving the U.S. with no repercussions from American law enforcement. Had she won this contest, she would have gained a great deal of influence over one of the world's most established criminals."

"A couple of weeks later, she's suddenly back in Europe, with the apparent blessing of several national law enforcement agencies," Hendle added. "And she's modeling for a company that could have generated the same mutual benefit, with much less hassle, by keeping her in the U.S. We know that this same company has some sort of partnership with a major, international law enforcement agency. Finally, she's accompanied by a boyfriend who she suddenly found, and who shows impressive martial arts capabilities, solid criminal investigation knowledge, and an unsettling curiosity about where the crime takes place on this island."

"There's one other factor," Ellie pointed out. "Her criminal record could actually prove to be a benefit for any law enforcement agency. If Global Justice were to approach an established model, said model would probably tell them to take a hike. On the other hand, Global Justice could probably offer to expunge part or all of Bonnie's criminal status. That's a powerful reward to offer a young woman trying to straighten out her life."

"So where does that leave us?" Trudy asked.

"I think there are too many coincidences lining up to make this random chance," Ellie admitted. "Bonnie's here because Global Justice wants her to be here. However, I don't think that Bonnie's the Global Justice agent, I think that the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing must have been established to give Bill a reason to be with her. Since Bonnie's been friendly towards us, I think we have to conclude that one of us is Bill's ultimate target."

"She betrayed us?" Trudy gasped.

"Of course," Ellie shrugged. "It's business. You're becoming a major equipment supplier for the worldwide criminal element and I've established myself as your major financier. Global Justice would want to put an agent into position to infiltrate one or both of our lairs."

"What do we do about this?" Trudy demanded.

"We're criminals," Ellie answered. "We take our revenge."

"So we make Bill disappear?" Hendle asked, cracking his knuckles.

"No!" Ellie insisted. "If we eliminate a Global Justice agent, we've declared a war with them that we cannot win! We don't do anything…permanent…to Billy. Bonnie, on the other hand, is fair game. The question is, what do we do to her?"

"I've got just the idea," Trudy gloated. "About a week ago, I gave up on Dr. Bofox ever recreating his body-morphing procedure and kicked him out. Instead, I coupled my trans-dimensional work with an old scheme Dr. Drakken once used to nearly get Kim Possible to embarrass herself out of existence. In theory, this will generate a great deal of power for me to utilize, but I must use a human, a being capable of feeling embarrassment, as the subject. The process promises to be excruciatingly painful but should provide enough power to fuel my new operation."

"Your communications extortion scheme is ready to go?" Ellie asked.

"It's just lacking the power source," Trudy assured her. "Or I should say, it was. Even though Bonnie and Billy are very close, they're bound to mingle with other people during tonight's party. I suggest we take the opportunity to show Bonnie how we react to people who abuse our friendship."

* * *

_A/N: Once again, I have to thank the ever-patient Joe Stoppinghem not only for his tireless beta work, but for coming up with the idea of Kim iceing the pool before swimming. _

_I hope everyone has been enjoying reading this tale as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the reviews and suggestions, via PM's and until my next update, you have my best wishes._

_daccu65_


	22. Let the Chips Fall

Chapter 22: Let the Chips Fall

Undercover agent Will Du ambled off of the beach, where perhaps two dozen young adults continued to dance. He grabbed a bottled water from a ice-filled, silver tureen and collapsed onto one of the assembled beach chairs. While Du was in excellent physical condition, lively dancing in soft sand wasn't easy. With a bit of salve to his pride, he noted that almost all of the other guests had already taken breaks.

Taking a deep draw from the bottle, he automatically searched for Bonnie among the other dancers. He spotted her, dancing and chatting with Elisabeth Minated. Du didn't have to force the smile that found its way onto his face when he contemplated his partner. He did, however, manage to keep the smile happy and carefree even though he wanted to heave a melancholy sigh.

Even before Global Justice had recruited the brunette, it had kept a file on her. Bonnie's rivalry with Kim, a potential recruit, meant that the agency kept an eye on her. Will had carefully read the file before approaching her for the first time. According to the file, Bonnie's primary motivation was recognition; she absolutely had to have those around her acknowledge her superiority…no matter what it took to gain it. In the months that had followed, he had personally added a great deal to her file.

Du had made sure that Bonnie's file included her horrid family life, which subjected her to a constant bombardment of ridicule and belittlement. Her mother lived vicariously through her girls and wanted to be able to brag to everyone about them. Therefore, she wasn't interested in the fact that Bonnie was an excellent cheerleader and a capable academic, the fact that Kim Possible outperformed her youngest daughter meant that the Rockwaller matriarch didn't recognize Bonnie's accomplishments. Du theorized that this lack of positive reinforcement at home embittered the youngest Rockwaller sibling, both contributing to her legendary nasty attitude and driving her to self-destructive ends in order to succeed. Away from home and school, Bonnie was becoming a much more pleasant companion.

What Du refused to add to the file were some of his own observations: that Bonnie seemed to harbor an honestly caring and humorous person who was now emerging. Somehow, Bonnie seemed to choose him to help her bring that kindly, successful young woman to light. This both stoked his ego and troubled him a great deal. It stoked his ego to know that this potentially amazing young woman had chosen him to be such a partner. It troubled him knowing that he might not be available to help her in the way that she wanted. If their mission were successful, if he managed to infiltrate either Trudy Dementor or Elisabeth Minated's operation, he would have to leave her behind. As a dedicated Global Justice agent, he was prepared to do so, to sacrifice a potential relationship for the good of his agency.

Bonnie would be fine, he was sure of that. Even if they failed in their mission, she would return to Middleton with invaluable modeling exposure and experience. While the Colorado Board of Corrections would certainly re-instate her parole conditions, he was certain that she would be able to establish a successful, if local, modeling career. This career would allow her to move out of her mother's house and set up her own home, ironically earning her mother's praise for being the first daughter to leave the nest. Of course, that would mean that their association would come to an end…and he admitted to himself that he didn't want that to happen.

"Need a break?"

The question snapped him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Trudy Dementor, who had just grabbed a drink of her own, settle into a chair next to his.

"It's a hard workout," Du replied, with a shrug of his shoulders and a charming smile. "I wonder if the FatSmack people have heard about dancing in loose sand?" Du referred to one of Europe's latest, trendy workout videos.

"Bite your tongue," she gently chided him. "If the word got out about the fitness benefits to be found by dancing in loose sand, the poor FatSmack franchise will go belly-up in ten months…which is about eight months sooner than the typical fitness trend. If that happens, I'll lose a great deal of money."

"You're invested in the fitness tapes?" Du didn't have to fake the amused question in his voice.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Trudy shrugged. "If the franchise tanks in the next six months, I'll lose a lot of money, if it hangs on for another year, I'll break even. If it hangs on for anther eighteen months, I'll make a small fortune."

"Multi-level marketing?" Du asked, with a knowing smirk.

"Something similar," Trudy admitted, returning his sly smile. "Ellie taught me how to do it. You already know that I make my money by questionable means, but what about you? You must have something going on that allows you to wander around Europe, following Bonnie."

"I'm a trust-fund brat," Du told her, quoting his cover story. "My father built a fairly successful business and sold it before he passed away."

"What did he do?"

"He built garage door openers, if you can believe it. I really don't have a head for business but I guess he made someone believe that his business was a lot more profitable than it really was, so he made a killing when he sold it. After he passed away and all the finances got settled, the accountants told me that I'd be better off living off the interest than spending the savings. I don't get enough money to stay in five star hotels, but at least I don't have to get a job."

"Where did you and Bonnie meet?"

"Club Banana sponsored a contest for young designers, back in the states. My girlfriend wanted to see the fashions so I tagged along to see the babes. My girlfriend didn't like the way I was looking at the girls, so she dropped me but I got lucky and met Bonnie at an after-party." Du paused for a moment, "why do you ask?"

"You might have noticed that I'm between boyfriends at the moment," she told him. "When you want to acquire something, finding out where someone else found it is a good place to start."

"Oh?" Du asked, with what he hoped was a playful smile. "Do you think I'm a catch?"

"Of course," she smiled back.

"So tell me, just what are you looking for in a boyfriend?"

"He has to be athletic and at least a little intelligent," she told him. "Since I'm not exactly fully on the right side of the law, that can't bother him."

"Hey, I don't have any problems with something like that. My father wasn't completely honest when he made his money."

"Billy, if I didn't know better, I'd say that you were flirting with me," Trudy retorted, with obviously false shock. "What about Bonnie?"

"She's always looking for the next boyfriend," Will shrugged, gesturing towards the dancing area, where Bonnie and Trudy had both found a young man to dance with. "She's really hot, but the two of us probably won't last much longer."

"Really?" Trudy asked, with an expression that was both surprised and hopeful.

Will Du had to fight to keep the triumphant smirk off of his face. A moment later, he had to fight to keep the guilty expression at bay.

"You know models," he said. "They go through guys as fast as they go through hair styles. I'm honestly surprised we've been together this long."

"You seemed to realize that I was doing something a little dishonest with my exercise video investment," Trudy replied. "Would you like to see what I'm doing?"

"Sure," Du answered.

"It's in my personal quarters," she told him. "Senior set me up with a permanent suite here, since I'm working closely with Ellie."

"Then lead the way," Will couldn't help but give a last glance towards Bonnie as he followed his prey away from the beach.

The undercover agent quickly became suspicious when Trudy led him into the lair's guest wing. He figured that Ellie would have set Trudy up with a more permanent abode but decided that the chance to infiltrate the Dementor gang was sufficient to override his suspicions. He rued this decision when Trudy led him into a suite and he felt a pinprick to his back.

He spun around quickly to confront Trudy's burly bodyguard, Hendle, who was holding some sort of needle gun. Du dropped into a martial arts stance, but he could feel that his body was sluggish, not reacting the way it should. Hendle stepped forward and delivered a powerful punch to his face, which Du was too slow to avoid.

"I shot you with a paralytic," the guard explained. "In a few moments, you won't have any control over your voluntary muscles. Unfortunately for you, you'll be able to see and hear everything that happens."

Will Du could only stare in horror as Elisabeth arrived, accompanied by one of Senior's henchmen, who was carrying the comatose Bonnie Rockwaller.

* * *

Bonnie Rockwaller was having a great time. She decided that if modeling for Club Banana and dancing on a tropical island would atone for her crimes, she was willing to perform a great deal of atonement. Currently, she was showing off her moves to one of the guys who answered Ellie's invitation, while Ellie danced nearby, with another guy.

"So what do you think?" Her hostess asked, when the song ended.

"This is great!" Bonnie answered. "We have everything we need, right here!"

"It's great when you have friends here," Ellie told her. "But when you're alone, it's boring. I think I need to sit out the next song."

"Me too," Bonnie agreed. The two young women grabbed something to drink and found a couple of chairs.

"So, how did you wind up trying to win Junior's hand?" Ellie asked, once the two settled down.

"I really didn't have anything going on in my life," Bonnie answered. "Cocoa Banana hadn't hired me to be a model and since I had once dated Junior, Senior invited me to compete."

"Are you kind of glad you lost?" Ellie asked. "I know I am."

"Absolutely! Now I have a good boyfriend and a great modeling job. Who knows, I might even get on the Asian tour! How about you?"

"I'm glad I lost, as well. Now I'm more than just some ornament, I have real authority. Would you like to see what I do?"

"Sure," Bonnie agreed. While her job was to infiltrate Will into either Senior's or Trudy's operation, she decided that it would be best if she could learn everything she could.

"C'mon!" Ellie exclaimed, springing to her feet and towing Bonnie behind her.

The brunette looked for her partner, but couldn't spot Will before Ellie dragged her off of the beach and into the lair. The blonde led Bonnie deep into the lair. Bonnie quickly became confused, since Ellie led her into what seemed to be the lair's guest wing. At a corner, Ellie suddenly turned and produced what appeared to be a small pistol. Before Bonnie could react, Ellie squeezed the trigger, shooting a small dart into Bonnie's exposed midriff.

"Ellie, what…are…you…do…ing?" Bonnie struggled to ask, even as she felt her limbs and mouth refuse to follow her will.

"Showing you how we deal with those who betray us!" The normally attractive woman snarled. "Bring her along!"

Bonnie slumped towards the floor but she felt someone catch her and scoop her into his arms. She was unable to turn her head but managed to roll her eyes enough to see that a man in Senior's livery was carrying her after Ellie. Moments later, she was carried into one of Senior's guest quarters and dropped onto the carpet next to an equally incapacitated Will Du.

"My employer strongly follows 'The Big Book of Villainy'," Elisabeth told the two prisoners. "And this book says that the proper villain should always gloat when the hero is helpless. Since I always follow local customs, I'll do so. Billy, I don't know if you are an agent, officer, constable or some other official, but we know that you're some sort of a law enforcement agent, sent to infiltrate either Senior's Island or Dementor's lair. We had suspicions but you confirmed it earlier tonight, when you were all too ready to betray Bonnie and pursue Trudy."

"Not to mention, Billy stated that he met you at an after-party," Hendle added. "Bonnie was on probation during the modeling contest, so she wouldn't have been allowed to attend a late-night party. There were other clues but we won't bore you with all the details. It's enough to say that your cover story just wasn't tight enough."

"Fortunately for you, Billy," Trudy took over the tale. "We don't want a war with any sort of international, law-enforcement agency. You'll be staying here, in one of Senior's guest suites that, just by coincidence, locks from the outside. The drug we injected you with will wear off in the next few hours, which will leave you to spend the next few days in a very comfortable prison."

"Unfortunately for your companion, we're pretty sure that she isn't an agent," Ellie continued. "Bonnie, your betrayal really hurts us, so it's only fair that we hurt you in return. We won't do it here, since Senior actually considers you a guest. Instead, Trudy will take you somewhere else, where we can benefit from your pain."

"And there will be plenty of that," Trudy assured the victims. "Since Ellie is more of a manager than a true villain, I'll be taking care of Bonnie. Billy, I'm almost sorry that you won't be able to say goodbye to your _girlfriend_. I'd really like to hear you explain that you were about to drop her but if you really cared about her, you wouldn't have put her into this kind of danger in the first place, would you?"

Will Du could only stare in helpless horror as Hendle threw the immobile Bonnie over one shoulder and stalked out of the door. Her pleading eyes seared his soul until the door closed and locked, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

"…So then Drakken gave you a wedgie?" Kim asked. Her barely restrained giggles threatened to send the noodles she was eating out of her nose.

"Just when did that become funny?" Ron demanded, looking around the small restaurant to make sure nobody could overhear the conversation. The small, Mongolian grill-themed eatery was located close to campus, so it was almost deserted during spring break.

"C'mon Ron," Kim smiled at him. "I'd rather see your backside exposed than Drakken's."

"Oh? You think of Drakken's exposed backside often?"

"Ron! This food's supposed to go down and stay down! Besides, it has a certain poetic justice."

"Okay, fine," he admitted. "He got me back. Can we move on to another subject?"

"Sure. What did the four of you talk about after that?"

"I guess you could say that we had the 'Motor Ed' side of the conversation you had with SADI last week. Dr. Director didn't really say much of anything, she just kept us on topic every time we started to stray."

"Did you guys really get off topic often?"

"With the two Lipsky boys setting the course? She must have felt like she was herding cats."

"I can just about picture it," Kim shook her head in sympathy for the older woman. "Were you able to talk some sense into him?"

"It's kind of hard to tell, with Ed. Drakken took the first crack and talked about how his life of crime just hadn't worked out very well."

"The Diablo Plot?" Kim asked.

"The Diablo Plot," Ron agreed, with a quick nod. "While the casualties were light, considering what they could have been, he's still a mass murderer. Not only is he sorry about what he's done, he doesn't dare show his face in public."

"He's afraid of getting arrested?" Kim asked. "I don't think that Global Justice ever officially informed Interpol about his whereabouts. As far as most law enforcement agencies are concerned, he's still a missing person."

"The police are the least of his worries! Imagine what will happen to him if someone, who lost a loved one during the Diablo Plot, were to see him and recognize him. Given the man's record of jail breaking, there's only one way to insure justice."

"I never thought of that," Kim murmured. "I bet Shego's keeping under cover, as well."

"Drakken brought that up, too. He explained how his life of crime never gave him wealth, fame or respect. He can't even call his own mother, since that would blow his cover. In a way, he's even more of a prisoner now, working for Dr. Director, than he was when he was in prison."

"I never thought I could feel sorry for him," Kim shook her head. "Anyway, what did Ed say?"

"He pointed out that there was a big difference between 'take over the world' schemes and trespassing. What he's doing isn't hurting anyone. Drakken countered that he could wind up back in prison if he keeps this up and that no woman…or car…is worth that. Ed argued with him."

"I bet that was more than a little interesting," Kim commented.

"I never realized that listening to someone talk about adjusting a timing belt could make me feel so…dirty," Ron shuddered and blushed at the same time. "He made it sound…erotic."

"Don't say any more!" Kim blushed, as well. 'I don't think I'll ever be able to keep a straight face in Smartymart's Autocare acre again. Anyway, what happened next?"

"Dr. Director stepped in and got us back on the proper subject. She pointed out that if Ed kept seeing SADI, he'd wind up in jail and then he wouldn't be able to see her at all. Bottom line up front, no matter what he does, he's going to be one seriously lonely dude."

"So did he agree to keep away from SADI?"

"Yeah, he even agreed to avoid her if she approached him. Since he hasn't actually broken an laws…yet…there isn't much that Dr. Director can do except warn him."

"Did he go back to Canon City?"

"No," Ron shrugged. "There's some sort of Robot Rumble event in Middleton today. That's why Dr. Director picked today to have us try to talk some sense into him; she was able to get him to GJ headquarters without him making a special, and potentially suspicious, trip."

"This can't end well," Kim shook her head. "Getting between Ed and an engine must be kind of like getting between the tweebs and…"

Beep beep be-beep…The Kimmunicator interrupted her.

"Go Wade."

"I've got a disturbance in downtown Middleton," the youngster reported. "There's a car without a driver circling the old Chromeside Warehouse."

"SADI," Kim and Ron said in unison.

"I'd say that's a good guess," Wade told them. "I can't contact Dr. Freeman and since she gets along well with you, I was hoping you could find out why she's running around the area.

"Wait a minute," Ron replied, a look of concentration finding its way onto his face. "Isn't Robot Rumble's secret arena under the Chromeside Warehouse?"

"Yeah," Wade's image shrugged. "Is that important?"

"Maybe," Kim answered. "It looks like Ed might not be the only one having trouble keeping his distance."

"What's this?" Wade asked.

"Something we'll talk about when you're a little older," Ron told him.

"How old?"

"A lot older than we are now," Kim told her young friend. "When does our ride get here?"

"That's another odd thing," Wade told her. "I received a hit from Global Justice at about the same time, offering to take care of transportation. Just leave the restaurant and head towards campus, they'll take it from there." He paused for a moment, "Kim, what's going on?"

"Something we can't talk about," she answered.

"You've always trusted me in the past," Wade looked and sounded hurt.

"I wish we could talk about it Wade," Kim apologized, as she and Ron got up and headed for the door. "We'll ask Dr. Director if we can bring you in, when we see her again."

"I can't say that it will be doing you any favors," Ron added. "Dude, there's some things you just don't want to know."

"I guess that's fair enough," Wade grumbled. "I'll be standing by in case you need me. Wade out."

"Is it just me, or did he sound a little bit huffy?" Ron asked, as the two teens left the restaurant.

"It isn't just you," Kim replied, leading the way back towards campus. "And I can't blame him. He's every bit as dedicated to the hero biz as we are. It has to hurt knowing that we aren't telling him everything."

"But Dr. Director told us not to!" Ron protested.

"I'm sure he understands. We have very good reasons for not telling him, and that has to make it even worse. He can't really get mad at us for doing the right thing, can he?"

"So he can't vent," Ron concluded.

"Exactly, now I…Ieeeeiiiii!"

Both teens were caught off guard when the ground vanished out from underneath them. Unfortunately for Kim, she was talking at the time and wasn't able to keep from shrieking. Ron had no such pride issues, howling in terror as an underground tube deposited them into a clear cylinder. Both teens snarled as a mechanical arm deposited their cylinder into another tube, which sent them hurtling along a dark, subterranean path.

"I think we're heading east," Kim gasped. "That would be about right. What do you think?"

"I think we'll both be happier if I don't open my mouth very much," Ron grated out through clenched jaw. "Hot, Mongolian spices, lots of food, pure terror and a fast, curvy ride don't mix well. I'm just glad I didn't have the Stoppinghem Soda."

Before Kim could say anything more, the tube dropped the cylinder into a box-like enclosure.

"Hey!" Kim shouted. "Isn't this Global Justice head…"

Another robotic arm grabbed the cylinder, silencing the redhead when it lifted them out of the enclosure. The teens clung to each other as the arm swung them towards a vertical tube. A hatch opened on this tube, allowing the arm to insert the cylinder inside. Moments later, the teens were shooting upwards. This trip only took a few seconds before the cylinder rapidly slowed to a stop. A hatch opened above the cylinder, revealing the afternoon sky. The cylinder's top slid aside and the floor rose through the body, lifting the teens out of their confinement.

"Okay, that was more than a little weird," Kim admitted, while trying to adjust to the fact that they were now standing in downtown Middleton.

"Th-th-there's The Game Emporium," Ron gasped, leaning against a handy utility pole. The blonde boy took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself before trusting his legs to support him unaided. "The warehouse is only a couple of blocks away."

"You seem more familiar with this part of town than I am," Kim commented, slipping an arm around his waist to help him stay upright.

"Hey, I liked gaming," he shrugged. "I used to like to chill out with Larry or Ned. There was always a game of some sort going on."

The two teens shuffled towards the warehouse at a sedate pace, allowing Ron to regain his equilibrium. Half of a block away, they spotted two familiar figures.

"Where is he!" SADI demanded, via her exterior speaker. "Why isn't he returning my calls?"

"SADI, be reasonable," Dr. Freeman argued. "You know that the two of you can't keep seeing each other. Ed understands this but you don't. You can't keep calling him!"

"Just how can she call him without fingers to dial the phone?" Ron wondered. Kim silenced him with a somewhat gentle elbow to the ribs.

"I don't care!" The car howled. "He didn't even say goodbye! I'm not going to just have him wander off like this…we had a relationship!"

Before Dr. Freeman could say anything else, the Robot Rumble's hidden elevator popped to the surface, revealing Ed Lipsky with his fighting robot. The big man stepped off of the elevator, not realizing that his former paramour was only a half block away.

"There he is!" SADI roared. The intelligent car gunned her engine and barreled down the street towards the big blonde. Ed glanced, momentarily, at the commotion behind him. Then his eyes suddenly bugged out and he spun around.

"Whoa babe," he whined, backing away from the oncoming vehicle. The wall behind him stopped his retreat. "What gives, seriously?"

"What's the meaning of this?" The car demanded, with her engine revving up in a menacing manner. "We had something special! You made me feel like I've never felt before but now you won't even return my calls! Don't I even rate an explanation? What am I, some cheap Yugo you can just service a couple of times then toss aside when the ashtrays are full?"

"Whoa, it was never like that, seriously!" Ed protested, backed against the wall and spotlighted by SADI's glaring headlights. "I mean, I was digging it just as much as you were."

* * *

"Dr. Director," a voice called over the conference room's intercom system. "Edward Lipsky is having some sort of a confrontation with SADI the talking car. We are observing it on hidden camera G-20."

"Put in on my screen," the redhead, who had been meeting with the former Dr. Drakken, ordered. "Drew, I want you to watch this, as well."

* * *

"So that's all I was to you?" SADI almost sobbed. "Just a high quality undercarriage to jack up on your lift? Just some premium lug nuts to crank with your wrench? Did it ever occur to you that there's more to life, more to a relationship than just simple mechanics?"

"Whoa there babe," Ed protested, his ire overcoming his fear. "That wasn't simple mechanics, seriously! That was master service performed by skilled hands! You can't tell me that you didn't seriously appreciate it! I was there, I know you were digging it."

"Of course I enjoyed it!" She snapped back, cycling her windshield wipers once in a strangely effective parody of a human rolling her eyes. "It's automotive nature to enjoy a skilled, energetic servicing, but what about afterwards? What about life outside the garage?"

"There's life outside a garage?"

"Of course there is!" SADI snarled, now with her hazard lights blinking. "Maybe it's better this way. I mean, if I don't rate a simple phone call telling me that you aren't going to see me anymore, it's pretty obvious that you weren't interested in me when you didn't have a tool in your hand."

"That's not true," Ed protested. "We had something special, seriously. That garage just isn't the same without you in it. I've tried to work on other cars, but it just isn't the same!"

"You were working on other cars! I thought we were an item!"

"We were, seriously, but I gotta pay the bills. You knew this when we got together! Sure, I've been servicing other cars, but I was thinking about you the entire time!"

"I'll bet you've used that line plenty of times before!" A trickle of cleaning fluid dribbled, unnoticed, down her windshield. "How many, Ed? How many other cars have you had in that garage, each one thinking she was the only one?"

"KP?" Ron asked, as the car and mechanic continued to rant at each other. "Should I be disturbed that this argument is actually making sense to me?"

"Yeah," she assured him. "And I'm just as…"

The sound of Robot Rumble's hidden elevator, straining under a heavy load, interrupted the heroine. The two teens looked behind them to see Vivian Porter and Oliver emerge onto the street. Oliver took one look at the confrontation and stormed over to confront Ed.

"What's going on here?" The huge robot demanded. "SADI, has he hurt you in any way? If he has, so help me…"

The robot left the statement hanging and turned to glare at the big blonde. Ed, who wasn't known for his imagination, somehow managed to picture a number of unpleasant alterations Oliver could inflict upon him.

"Whoa there, big dude," Ed protested. "I didn't put a finger on her that she didn't want me to, seriously."

"SADI?" Oliver asked.

"He's right," SADI sobbed. "What he did to me…or I should say what he did for me, was what I wanted. I just thought that it would mean something more, but I was wrong." Her windshield was now covered with glass cleaner and a steady stream of the blue-tinted liquid continued to stream onto the pane.

"SADI, what happened?" Oliver asked, placing a comforting hand on her hood.

"I...I…I've never felt the way he made me feel!" The car confessed. "I mean, Dr. Freeman has always made me feel valuable and needed and you've always made me feel intelligent and capable but he made me feel something different! Ed made me feel precise and custom! He made me feel that I was the only one who rated his service but I was wrong! He was servicing behind my trunk when my headlights were on something else!"

"Hey, it wasn't like that, seriously!" Ed protested. "You knew I had to service other cars! It's how I make my living!"

"SADI," Oliver murmured, wiping a small section of her windshield dry with one large finger, "I've always thought you were unique and precise. I was always afraid to say something."

"Really?" SADI asked. The thinking car's air intake hiccuped a bit, but she gamely wiped her windshield dry. "Do you really think that I'm special?"

"Of course," Oliver assured her. "In fact…one zero zero zero zero one zero one, zero one one one zero zero zero one, one one one zero one one one one…"

* * *

"Just what is he saying?" Dr. Director demanded, with a very confused look on her face.

"He…he's speaking in binary," Drew answered, sounding a bit flustered.

"But what is he saying?" She asked, turning to look at her subordinate.

"I'd really rather not say," Drew informed her, blushing a light lavender. "But I'll never look at a fuel tank the same way again."

"Dr. Director," a voice sounded over the intercom system. "You have a secure message incoming, priority sigma cobol."

"I'll take it in my office," she replied. "Drew, continue to monitor this situation."

* * *

"Oliver!" Vivian Porter gasped. "Where did you ever learn _**THAT**_!" Oliver, however, didn't interrupt his speech.

"What's he saying?" Kim asked. Vivian just shook her head, blushing furiously.

For several more minutes, Oliver continued to spew out ones and zeros, while Kim, Ron and Ed stared, dumfounded. Dr. Freeman and Vivian Porter looked alternately embarrassed or shocked. SADI, however, had a different reaction. Her bright, glaring headlights dimmed and her engine's growling calmed to a purr. Her windshield washer stopped spraying her windshield and her air intake evened out. Finally, Oliver stopped speaking and looked at the car, a hopeful and terrified expression on his face.

"Y-y-you really think that way?" SADI asked. "Do you really mean what you just said?"

"Every byte," Oliver answered. "Every bit."

SADI's driver's door flew open. "Climb in," she told him. Looking scared and happy at the same time, Oliver complied.

"Look Eddie," SADI told the big, blonde man. "We had some great times and maybe I read more into it than I should have, but I don't think we have a future together." Ed looked more relieved than upset as she turned smoothly away from him and turned her attention to Dr. Freeman.

"Doc," she told him. "You built me and I really appreciate it but it's time for me to move on. I know that you don't know how to drive, but I'm sure that you'll find another means of transportation. These last few weeks have taught me that I want more from my life than providing basic transportation. I just wish that I had figured out who I wanted to spend that life with, earlier. I'm sorry, but I have to find my own way in this world."

With that, SADI drove off, leaving Kim, Ron, Ed, Vivian, Dr. Freeman and Rufus staring with open mouths. Finally, several minutes after the car's taillights disappeared, Vivian Porter found her voice.

"My…son…just eloped," she murmured.

"He took my car," Dr. Freeman grumbled. "My car has abandoned me! I'm an abandoned passenger!"

"This is your car's fault!" Vivian snapped at the doctor. "That…hussy of an automobile just seduced Oliver into running away with her!"

"What!" Dr. Freeman demanded. "SADI did no such thing!"

"Of course she did! Oliver's naïve and innocent! SADI took advantage of that and stole him away!"

"Innocent! You heard his little speech at the same time I did! That was no naïve, innocent little boy who said _**THAT**_!"

"Just what did he say?" Kim and Ron interrupted, at the same time.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Vivian waved the teens off. "Dr. Possible wouldn't approve of me talking to you about it." She then turned her attention back to Dr. Freeman.

"He's never spoken like that before," she insisted. "It was your flirty seductress of a vehicle that made him act this way. Now she's dragged him off and who knows what's going to happen to him?"

"You were right there when it happened! SADI didn't tell him to talk about her drive train in _those_ terms! He had to be thinking that way before today!"

"But…but…but," Vivian's composure started to slide. "Oliver's so young! He's not ready for the real world! He needs me to show him how cruel it can be!"

"Do you think that SADI's any different? Sure, on the outside she seems like a tough taxi type of car but under her upholstery, she's actually insecure and inexperienced."

"_Right!"_ Vivian snorted, the sarcasm evident. "Insecure and inexperienced enough to sneak off to Canon City for some prime servicing. She knew what she was doing."

"Just what are you implying?" Dr. Freeman demanded.

"Hold on just a moment," Kim interrupted, stepping between the two. "Arguing isn't helping!"

For a moment, both of the scientists seemed ready to turn their anger onto the redhead but both calmed down.

"You're right," Vivian nodded. "We have to figure out what to do now."

"I agree," Dr. Freeman added. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"I do," Ed informed them, finally managing to peel himself away from the wall he had been cowering against. "Under one condition."

"What's that?" Vivian, Kim and Dr. Freeman all asked, at once.

"I want everyone here to testify that Red here approached me, rather than the other way around. I still have a serious restraining order in effect."

"Okay, fair enough," Kim nodded. "What's your suggestion?"

"Two seriously brainy types like the doc and the babe had to have put in some sort of override," Ed told them. "You know, in case the wheels and the big dude start to seriously trash things? Why don't you just override their controls and bring 'em back?"

"Why didn't I think of this?" Dr. Freeman shook his head. "Of course I included an override in SADI's programming. I just have to go home, activate it, and her anti-theft devices will tell me where she's at."

"The same with Oliver," Vivian added. "I can power him down from my cell phone."

"Why don't you deactivate Oliver before I deactivate SADI?" Dr. Freeman suggested. "Since he's a passenger, we'll be able to recover them at the same time?"

"Good thinking," Vivian nodded. "I'll give you a ride home, we can deactivate our creations and have them back in an hour or so."

"NO!" Ed, Vivian, Dr. Freeman and Kim all spun around at the squeaky protest. They all watched, amused, as Rufus scrambled out of Ron's pocket and down his pants leg. The mole rat scampered to a position between Vivian and Dr. Freeman, where he proceeded to harangue the two, even though nobody but Ron understood what he was saying.

"Are you sure you want to get involved in this?" Ron asked his small friend. "I mean, it isn't really your concern."

The rodent immediately started to lecture Ron, showing even more animation than he had before. Rufus finished his rant by pointing first to himself, then to Ron, then glaring at the chastised, young man.

"Okay, you make a good point," Ron told him. "You didn't have to get so graphic about it."

Rufus simply snorted once, before scampering up Ron's clothing and taking his accustomed place on his human's shoulder. From this vantage point, the rat could glare at both Vivian and Dr. Freeman, in turn, at a nearly eye-to-eye level.

"Okay, here's what the little guy's saying," Ron informed the two scientists. "The two of you gave SADI and Oliver artificial intelligence, so they're capable of making decisions for themselves. They've decided to leave, to live their own lives, so you don't have the right to keep them back."

"Ron, that's not true," Kim interrupted. "SADI and Oliver aren't people. They're…things…possessions." Rufus's growl interrupted the redhead.

"So's Rufus," Ron pointed out. "Technically speaking, he's a possession. He pointed out that I could take him down to the taxidermist, right now, and nobody could stop me. Okay, he'd gnaw both of my hands off at the wrist if I tried, but I could do it, legally."

"That's why he's so upset," Ron continued, now addressing the two scientists. "He's a possession, just like SADI and Oliver. None of them have any legal rights or protections, so he got really annoyed when you decided to just override your creations, simply because they weren't doing what you wanted them to."

"But they're ours," Vivian protested. "We built them, they exist to serve us!"

"And you can do whatever you want with them or to them," Ron agreed. "But just because you can do it, doesn't make it right. What will you do if Oliver still wants to be with SADI after you bring him back, erase his memory?"

"If I have to," Vivian told him, but she sounded much less sure of herself.

There was a long moment of silence before Ron continued.

"So if Mr. Dr. Possible doesn't like Kim dating, should he drag her back home and hire some hypno-therapists to convince her that she isn't interested in me? If my mom doesn't like me going on missions, should she drag me off to some specialist, who'll try to enhance my phobias?"

"This is different," Dr. Freeman interjected. "You and Kim are independent adults. Nobody can legally make those decisions for you."

"Even when we were minors, could our parents have decided to reprogram our minds? Sure, they could ground us and try to make us see their points of view, but they weren't about to dictate our thoughts! Like it or not, the two of you have created a couple of thinking, independent beings who are perfectly capable of deciding that they don't want to spend their lives serving you. What are you going to do about it, force them to adopt the attitudes you want them to, or respect their ability to learn from their experiences?"

"Whoa dude," Motor Ed grumbled. "Philosophy and ethics give me a worse headache than a twelve pack and a poorly ventilated garage."

"But I think it's something we have to deal with," Vivian admitted. "I guess I have to realize that Oliver might want something more from life than accompanying me everywhere I go."

"I never realized how empty SADI's life must be," Dr. Freeman mused. "She's highly intelligent but only exists to carry me around. Of course she would want something more."

"I guess we just let them go," Vivian offered. "Maybe they'll come back to us and include us in their lives. I hope so."

"Me too," Dr. Freeman sighed. "But what do I do in the meantime? I don't have a driver's license."

"I can give you a ride around town," Vivian offered.

"I guess that's a good, short term solution, but I don't want to impose."

"Dudes, there's no problem," Ed interrupted. "You guys have it great! You get to build a new robot and car!"

"Wait a minute!" Kim snapped at him. "I thought you were in love with SADI! You're ready to move on already?"

"Of course," the big man shrugged. "Red, that's why I'm into cars more than I'm into broads; when a car leaves your life, you can just build a better one."

"Better than SADI?" Dr. Freeman looked decidedly insulted.

"Hey, not harshing the wheels but you can always do better. You didn't go off road very much, did you?"

"No," Dr. Freeman admitted. "Why?"

"Dude, SADI has some serious clearance that you never used. We can make the next one lower and get some handling at the price of clearance you don't need. For another thing, she couldn't actually grab things, could she?"

"Of course not, she's a vehicle."

"Well, I bet you could talk the brainy babe here into putting in one of those articulated robot arms."

"That would be a handy feature," Dr. Freeman agreed, pulling out a PDA to make some sketches. "I'd still like to retain the basic, SUV shape."

"We'll put the arm compartment over the engine block," Vivian added. "Putting the lifting member over the heaviest point on the vehicle makes it more stable."

"SADI has plenty of room under the hood," Ed agreed. "So the brainy babe can fit the arm under there and still leave room. I was thinking of seriously expanding the cooling system, since we're gonna be using more power with the arm."

"Good thinking," Vivian nodded.

"This screen is a little cramped," Dr. Freeman told his two companions. "I have an excellent drafting station at home and my intelligent appliances will be more than happy to prepare a meal for us. Care to join me?"

"I'll drive," Vivian offered. Soon, the three wandered off, leaving Kim, Ron and Rufus staring after them.

* * *

"What did I miss?" Dr. Director asked, returning to the meeting room where Dr. Drakken continued to stare at the screen.

"Perhaps the oddest resolution to a romantic triangle I have ever heard of," the blue man informed her. "Either this was truly bizarre, or I have to get out more. Did you resolve your crises?"

"I'm working on it, but I can't tell you any more than that. However, I want you to spend the next week working out of your remote office in this complex. I might need your assistance."

"Of course."

* * *

"That…was…weird," Kim remarked. Before either Rufus or Ron could comment, the Kimmunicator sounded.

"Guys, I want you to move thirty yards down the street," Wade told them. "I've set up a secure spot there where I know nobody can overhear us. I have a highly secret request for help."

The teens quickly complied with their friend's request.

"I'm arranging for transportation to Europe, right now," Wade told them. "There's a potential life and death situation developing. I have a request, specifically for the two of you."

"Who made the request?"

"Will Du."

* * *

_A/N: As always, I must thank Joe Stoppinghem for his ongoing beta assistance throughout this story and this arc. It has been a long haul, which has taken away time that he could be using to write his own stories. I really appreciate it, Joe._

_Secondly, I must express my appreciation to everyone who's been reading and encouraging me through reviews and/or PMs. It really means a lot. _

_Thanks again, everyone and until my next update, you all have my best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	23. Escape

Chapter 23: Escape

"_Antique, pendulum clocks, that tick-tock the passing seconds, should be considered a torture device." _

This thought dominated Will Du's mind as he lay, helpless, on the thick carpet in Senor Senior Senior's 'involuntary guest' suite. The agent had no doubt that the old man only had style in mind when he supplied the suite with the archaic timepiece. Although Du couldn't move his head, he could roll his eyes far enough to look at the clock and appreciate that it was stylish. However, when you were aware that your partner, the woman that you cared about, was being taken further away from you with each passing second, the ticks and tocks felt like red-hot pokers stabbing into your ears.

Unable to do anything but think, the agent had quickly come to the conclusion that he loved Bonnie Rockwaller. If he had been able to move, he would have either smacked himself on the forehead for not having figured it out earlier or laughed at himself for only reaching the conclusion after it was too late to act upon it. However, this wasn't a laughing matter. Will had both experience in these situations and an active imagination. Neither helped when thinking about what Trudy might be doing to Bonnie right now.

Desperate to keep his mind occupied, he fell back to his training and reviewed his situation. His first problem was, obviously, his unresponsive body.

'_Most paralyzing poisons act by blocking the body's neurons,_' his instructor had told him. '_If you're injected with a lethal poison, you are probably doomed unless you receive an antidote. However, if your assailant intended to temporarily incapacitate you, you may be able to turn the tables. Force your body to perform any act it can, continually. Alter your breathing, blink your eyelids, roll and refocus your eyes…anything. The poison is blocking your voluntary muscles through a chemical process, so your goal is to exhaust the chemical in your body as quickly as possible. If you regain motor functions before your assailant expects you to do so, you have a potential advantage._'

Will discovered that he could alter his breathing and control his eyes and eyelids, so he followed his instructions. He first focused his eyes on the doorknob, then the chandelier, then an outlet, then the clock. Since each of these objects was at a different distance from his head, doing so forced his eyes to refocus each time he changed his view. Du also altered his breathing, alternating quick, rapid panting with long, deep breaths. Breathing and looking around wasn't a strenuous mental exercise, so he was able to put his 'physical regimen' on autopilot while focusing on the next issue: his prison.

While the suite was comfortable and stylish, Will had no doubt that it was every bit as sturdy as a maximum security prison cell. Since Trudy had referred to the suite as a comfortable prison, the agent was sure that this wing had reinforced concrete walls, steel-cored doors and grated access hatches. He dimly recalled someone taking his wallet, watch, cell phone and keys while he lay helpless, listening to Dementor's gloating. Without the enhancements built into these mundane items, he wasn't going to be able to brute force his way out of the cell.

With escape in mind, Will studied as much of the suite as he could. He could see most of the main room's ceiling and made a mental note of what was visible: a smoke detector, chandelier, speaker, two sprinkler heads and an air diffuser. A plan began to form in Will's mind, spurred by his memory of Trudy Dementor referring to his prison as '_a guest suite, which conveniently locks from the outside_'. Will was further heartened by the fact that he was now able to move his head and shift his shoulders.

'_It doesn't matter if you've been incapacitated by chemical, electrical or physical means,_' his instructors' words sounded in his memory once again. '_If you are able to recover at all, you'll recover the same way: From your core, out and from your head, down. You'll first regain control of your neck and shoulders, then your abdomen and hips. Eventually, you'll regain control of your elbows and knees. Wrists, ankles, fingers and toes will be the last. Remember two things: First, keep using whatever you can control. The more you drive your body, the faster the paralysis will wear off. Secondly, don't let your assailant observe you. It is vitally important that he or she think that you are more helpless than you really are. Imagine him, swaggering and overconfident, standing over you and gloating. Imagine him pulling a blade and leaning close to inflict some torture, not realizing that you've regained control of your hips and knees, and that his unprotected groin is now only inches from your knee.'_

It seemed to take forever, but eventually his hips started to respond to his commands. Still unable to stand or even crawl, he started to roll, taking a mouse-level tour of his suite. The first stop on his tour was the master bedroom. Unfortunately, his horizontal posture didn't allow him to actually pass through the door but he was able to nudge it open and observe the inside. He could see some very high quality furnishings but was more interested in the walls and ceiling. He took note of another smoke detector, speaker and sprinkler head, as well as a thermostat, two outlets and a stylish light fixture. He also noticed that Senior had furnished the master bedroom with a ceiling mirror.

Concluding that Senior must regularly entertain guests younger than himself and studiously avoiding looking at his reflection in the mirror, he left the doorway and tumbled and flopped his way towards the kitchenette. Of course, he was unable to access any of the drawers of cabinets, but noted that the room seemed to have an oven and refrigerator before rolling back to the living room.

Once back at his starting point, the agent waited a few minutes for some dizziness to subside. Repeated rolling with one's face close to a fabric-scented carpet wasn't good for one's equilibrium. With the suite no longer spinning loops around him, Will rolled to what appeared to be the smaller of two bedrooms. Here, he found a closed door and knob he couldn't reach so he made his clumsy way to the last door. This one proved to be unlatched and led into a bathroom. Looking inside Will noticed that the bathroom was equipped with towels and washcloths, but nothing appeared to be of immediate use to him. With his survey complete for the moment, he worked his way back to his starting point.

Just before he reached his starting point, the unwilling guest heard footsteps outside the main door. Quickly rolling to where the henchmen had originally left him, and noting that he now had some control over his upper arms, he positioned himself as close as he could to his starting posture. The door opened, admitting two men in Senior's uniforms. With another surge of hope, Will noticed the men used a card, rather than an old-fashioned key, to open his door.

"Well, well, well," one of the burly men sneered at the disabled agent. "It looks like you're still alive. I'd say that it's a pity, but our boss doesn't want a dead official on our hands."

"You're lucky," the other one rumbled. "We don't take kindly to someone trying to spy on him. We have to keep you alive and unharmed, but we don't have any orders to keep you comfortable."

With that, the second man, who was the larger of the two, grabbed the agent by his shirt and heaved him to an upright posture. Will flopped his head around, so that the guards would assume that he had regained some motor function, but not as much as he really had.

"Well, lookee here," the first chuckled. "It looks like the juice is wearing off. Let's see how much!"

Taking his cue, the second man released the agent. Du didn't even try to remain upright and flopped to the ground like a drunkard.

"Not all that tough, are we?" The second man taunted him. "You're lucky that the boss won't let us educate you."

"Too bad that accidents happen," the first man added, then kicked Du in the head. "Oops. I tripped."

"Yeah," the other man chuckled, before driving a foot into the agent's stomach. "I didn't see him either!"

The two men kicked the downed agent several more times before hoisting him into a comfortable chair.

"Don't go anywhere," the first laughed at him.

"Yeah, we'll be back here in a couple more hours to _**check**_ on you again," the second man added. "You might be able to walk by then and we can continue our discussion."

The two men slapped each other on the back and laughed as they left. Du, however, wasn't paying much attention to them. It seemed that the beating they had inflicted upon him had sped his recovery; he could now move his legs and arms. Discovering, the hard way, that he couldn't stand yet, he pulled his face out of the carpet and took a second tour of his suite, this time crawling rather than rolling. With clumsy hands and a great deal of concentration, he was able to open the unlocked, interior doors. A smile found its way onto his face when he looked at the towel rack in the bathroom he had visited so recently. Forcing his body to work, he wrenched the sturdy, cylindrical piece of metal out of its supports, before stumbling back to the chair the two henchmen had left him in and hiding the bar behind his back. He smiled wider, thinking about the two henchmen returning in about ninety minutes and finding him more recovered than they expected.

The smile quickly faded when he realized that he was allowing himself to become distracted. He had to report the situation to his superiors and rescue his partner, not gain meaningless revenge against his assailants. He stumbled back to his feet, noticing that his coordination was improving rapidly, and staggered into the kitchenette. He quickly checked the drawers and, as he suspected, found that his pseudo-prison didn't have any sharp knives. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned a burner to high and grabbed a paper towel. Moments later, the paper was smoldering, giving off a great deal of smoke. He was halfway to the bedroom when he realized that he wasn't planning his escape properly. Although any delay grated at his psyche, he realized that a few minutes spent planning now could save hours or even days later. He returned to the kitchenette, doused the towel in the sink and leaned against the counter, reviewing his plan.

'_When planning your escape, don't become fixated on the first barrier_,' another instructor's voice sounded in the agent's memory. '_Always remember, you are escaping in order to accomplish something. It doesn't do you, or us, any good to escape, only to get caught immediately. In fact, this is counterproductive since it will put your captors on guard. Think about your goal, then plan your escape with your goal in mind_.'

Du couldn't believe how close he had come to discarding his training. He had been ready to set off one of the smoke detectors and ambush the responding staff. As if Senior's staff was a pack of idiots! Du could handle a henchman, probably a few, but there was no way he was going to be able to overcome the swarm of thugs that were sure to descend upon the room. Still, he was certain he could make use of the fire alarm system.

'_A captor's automated systems can become a weakness_,' another instructor's voice sounded in his head. _'The most overlooked are a building's fire protective systems, especially when the building isn't designed to be a prison. In addition to serving as a distraction, such systems may also close some doors, disable elevators, shut down ventilation systems and, most importantly, unlock doors. In such a situation, it is often better to make use of the sprinklers than the smoke detectors. In upper-scale facilities, the detectors are usually addressable, which means the staff will know exactly which one has been activated. Sprinklers are usually monitored by the floor or wing, which means the staff will know the general area of disturbance, not the exact location. Uncertainty in your captor's staff is usually your friend.'_

Inspiration suddenly hit the agent. He opened a drawer, grabbed a handful of butter knives and forks and rushed into the smaller bathroom. The sprinkler head wasn't over the tub, but Du was ready for that. He pulled the shower curtain off of the rod then used the silverware to pin one end to the ceiling and the other to the edge of the tub, forming a crude trough from the sprinkler to the tub. Then he piled towels in the bathtub. His handiwork was far from perfect, but hopefully it would be sufficient. He took one last, deep breath and smashed the sprinkler head.

Pungent water poured out of the head and into the trough formed by the shower curtain. While some leaked onto the bathroom floor, the vast majority of the water ran into the bathtub. The towels didn't completely muffle the running water, but it was much quieter than water pouring from the ceiling would have been without his preparations. Du closed the bathroom door, further muffling the water's noise, and made his way towards the suite's main door.

"My honored guests," Senior's voice sounded in the room. Du nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized that the voice was coming from the suite's speakers. The old billionaire must have recorded the message, as a fire alarm evacuation signal, before his health began to decline. "It pains me to disturb you but you may be in danger. For your own safety, kindly leave your suite and exit the guest wing. My staff will determine the nature of the disturbance and see to your continued safety and comfort. My honored guests…"

Du was in luck, the suite's main door opened for him! Apparently, the fire alarm system automatically unlocked the doors, to allow the staff easy access to search for the fire. Luckily, nobody had thought to disable this feature when they confined him in the guest quarters. Du didn't waste any time, but rushed across the hall and burst into another suite, which was both unlocked and deserted. The agent smashed a sprinkler head in the living room before leaving and fleeing down the hall. With any luck, the responding staff would react to the loud, running sprinkler in the second suite and not even think about the first suite…at least for a few extra minutes. Now it was time for flat-out speed!

Needing to get out of the hallway before any staff members arrived to investigate the alarm, Will sprinted towards the end of the hallway. There was a door at the passage's very end, and the building's layout didn't allow enough room for that door to lead into a spacious suite. Therefore, it should open into some sort of supply closet; a perfect place to lay low and observe the staff's actions. He also noted that Senior's recorded voice was sounding throughout the halls, repeating the message to evacuate in several languages. Not knowing if the continued alarm would be beneficial or harmful to his cause, he reached the door and breathed a sigh of relief when the knob turned and admitted him into a dark, abandoned room. He leapt inside, closed the door behind him and fumbled for a light switch.

Luck smiled upon him again, as he found himself in some sort of a custodial and housekeeping supply closet. One wall was lined with shelves bearing cleaning supplies, another wall was lined with shelves containing clean linens and toiletries and the third wall was lined with mop buckets and vacuum cleaners. The fourth wall interested him the most, since next to a clothes rack with several uniforms, sat a desk with a telephone and a computer monitor. He used his last butter knife to wedge the door shut before rushing to the desk.

Du was certain that the telephone was intended for staff to report the local guest suites' status to whoever was in charge of Senior's guests. As such, it was certainly connected to Senior's local telephone switchboard, but might not have the ability to dial off of the island. However, Global Justice had foreseen problems such as this. Du sat at the desk's chair and twisted the heel on his right shoe, revealing a small piece of electronics hidden in the hollow heel. Du unplugged the handset from the telephone, plugged his gizmo into the telephone and then plugged the handset cable into the gizmo. Strange noises came over the speaker as the device searched the telephone system…at least in an electronic sense. Will didn't know all of the specifics, but he knew that it would locate an outside line and route a phone call through several switchboards worldwide.

"Communications center," a voice announced over the phone.

"Priority sigma cobol," Du answered.

"Understood. Stand by."

Du knew that it would only take a few moments, but those were very long moments for the agent. Senior's recorded voice from the hallway went silent, to be replaced by footsteps.

"I can hear the water!" A voice called from the hallway. Du could imagine one of Senior's servants speaking into a radio. "Guest suite seven! There's no fire; it looks like the head just cut loose so turn off the sprinklers on this floor. What? No, no need to send the cleanup crew just yet, we have to repair the system and test it before we can clean up the mess. Yeah, I'll wait here."

"Report, Agent Du," Dr. Director's voice announced over the telephone.

"Our cover's blown," Du whispered back. "We have been captured and separated. I have been separated from my partner, do not know her whereabouts and am in imminent danger of recapture."

"Understood, give me a full report."

Du listened to the activity outside his hideout while providing his superior with a short, yet complete, report about his capture. "Physically, I'm at roughly ninety percent," he concluded. "As soon as transport arrives, I'll be ready to go wherever…"

"Absolutely not!" His boss interrupted him. "I will dispatch a rescue team, immediately, to the European operational area. You will remain at your current location!"

"Doctor Director!" He hissed back, noting that the running water sound had faded away. "It could take over two days to assemble the team and move it to Europe! In the meantime, what Trudy could be doing to Bonnie…" Du left the statement hanging, not really wanting to think about it.

"I appreciate your concern for your partner," Director snapped back. "But I have an entire operation to think about, not just one person! Currently, only Minated and Dementor even suspect that you are an undercover agent. However, if you storm off after her, wherever Dementor has taken her, you will expose your true affiliation and will be of no further use in any undercover operation. Do you understand me?"

"But Bonnie…"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, AGENT DU?"

"Yes ma'am," Du whispered back, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Very well," Dr. Director sounded much calmer now. "Allow yourself to be recaptured…preferably with Minated not present. There's a possibility that the Seniors are not aware that this is taking place on their island. We will make use of your cover story to secure your release."

"And Bonnie?" Will prompted.

"Is now my responsibility," Dr. Director informed him. "I have already alerted operatives to look out for Miss Rockwaller and all of Dementor's know associates. I am also forming a rescue team. You have your instructions, Agent Du, this communication is ended."

The line went dead and Du knew that there would be no answer if he called again. He was enough of a professional to remove his gizmo and carefully crush it into powder beneath his heel, while listening to the activity outside his sanctuary. He heard another set of footprints pass the supply closet and head down the hallway towards his distraction. He considered his situation as he grabbed a small broom, swept up the gizmo's remains and tossed them into a waiting garbage bag.

First of all, it was only a matter of time before word of his activities reached Minated. If Will understood her function correctly, she was concerned with Senior's schemes, not lair maintenance. Unfortunately, she was no fool and would quickly realize that the sprinkler system breaking down in the wing she had imprisoned him wasn't mere coincidence. Du was certain that she would be in the area, accompanied by several burly, capable cronies, within a half-hour. He had to be gone by then, even though he had to go through a hallway that was rapidly filling up with maintenance personnel. Then he considered Bonnie.

His partner, who had been captured helping him complete his mission.

Who had trusted him.

Who had looked at him, helplessly, while being carried off for torture.

Who his superior had forbidden him to help.

Agent Will Du had dedicated his adulthood, and most of his adolescence, to his career. He had never been much of a socializer and had sacrificed the few friendships he had forged, in order to promote his career. If he were to throw away his career, his entire life would be rendered meaningless.

Then he thought of Bonnie Rockwaller's pleading eyes.

He sat down at the desk and powered up the computer. Fortunately, it had internet access.

Without a moment's hesitation, he logged onto Kim Possible's website.

* * *

"Okay Wade," Kim addressed her tech support man, via her Kimmunicator. "We are now airborne and have left U.S. airspace. What's the sitch?"

"Will Du didn't tell me everything," Wade answered. "In fact, he told me that it would be better to keep most of the request vague. He told me that Trudy Dementor has kidnapped Bonnie. Trudy gloated that she was taking Bonnie off of Senior's island to, and I quote, 'inflict pain for our benefit.'"

"Where has Trudy taken Bonnie?" Kim asked.

"Du doesn't know," Wade answered. "Currently, I'm reviewing potential sightings around all of the professor's old hideouts."

"Good," Kim nodded. "Why is Agent Du on Senior's Island?"

"Before I answer that, I'd better clear up something else," Wade told his friends. "Will made sure that I knew that he's acting as Will Du, private citizen, not as Agent Du, GJ operative. According to him, he's going directly against Global Justice's orders by trying to help Bonnie."

"Which means we're going against GJ's wishes by helping him," Ron added.

"Exactly," Wade agreed. "You haven't really done anything at this time. If you don't want to buck Global Justice, I can arrange for return transportation as soon as your cargo plane lands in Madrid. I'll just let Will know…"

"Don't even think about it," Kim interrupted. "I might not have always gotten along with Bonnie, but I'm not going to sit back and watch anybody rough her up."

"I thought you'd think that way," Wade told her. "That's why I set up the mission. Anyway, he won't say what they were doing on the island. He told me that they were originally Senior's guests and that Trudy claimed she was taking Bonnie off of the island, so she wouldn't abuse his hospitality."

"So it's actually very likely that the Senior's don't know what's going on," Kim mused. "They might be crooks, but they won't let anybody abuse their guests. Anything else?"

"Yes. He said that the situation was very fluid and he might be recaptured by the time you reach the island. While he is trying to arrange for a peaceful pickup, he can't guarantee his success."

"That's unusual," Kim chuckled. "Usually when Will Du says he's going to do something, he acts like it's a foregone conclusion."

"Then when he fails, he says that it's someone else's fault," Ron added.

"Well, it seems that agen…er…Mr. Du has had a shock to his system," Wade's image shrugged. "Your current ride will drop you off in Madrid. I'm working on two follow-up rides; I'll route you to the first if Will tells us the reception will be hostile or if I don't hear from him again. I'll route you to the second if he tells me he's been able to secure a safe arrival. Now, we should probably deal with the next step."

"Rescuing Bonnie," Kim agreed. "What do we know about the sitch?"

"Other than Trudy Dementor took her away from Senior's Island…nothing," Wade answered.

"Dementor kidnapped Camille over the summer," Ron added. "Maybe this is connected somehow."

"That was Professor Dementor," Kim corrected her fiancé.

"But Trudy was working with him," Ron countered. "So she had to know what the professor was up to."

"Okay, agreed," Kim nodded to him. "According to Camille, Dementor kept forcing her to change forms, over and over. Apparently, his plans had something to do with her morphing power."

"A power that Dr. Bofox gave her," Wade gasped. "And Dr. Bofox has been spotted around some of the professor's known hangouts."

"When was your latest sighting?" Kim asked.

"I have a fairly reliable report from forty hours ago. I'll try to firm up his location…it's the best lead we have."

"Maybe we can dig up something more when we reach the island," Kim suggested. "I really wonder what's going on over there."

* * *

Elisabeth Minated was not happy when the telephone woke her. She glanced at her clock while she reached for the offending communications implement, deciding that six A.M. was simply too early to wake up on her day off.

"What is it?" She grumbled into the mouthpiece.

"This is the operations center, Miss Minated," the crisp, professional voice sounded from the other end. "You asked to be alerted if anything took place on the lower guest wing. The fire sprinklers are currently active on that wing."

"When did this take place?" She demanded, now fully awake.

"Twelve minutes ago."

"And you've only told me now?"

"Standard operating procedure," he replied. "We must investigate the cause before informing anyone outside of this office. It appears to be a broken head in one of the suites."

"Have my standby operatives meet me there…yesterday!" She instructed the man. "Nobody else goes there."

"It's too late," he informed her. "We've already dispatched technicians to fix the problem."

"Okay, nobody else. I'll deal with this when I get there."

* * *

After concluding his electronic conversation with Possible's support man, Du removed all evidence that he had utilized the computer and contemplated his next move. While he had good chance of simply slipping out of his refuge and leaving the area in the confusion, he also ran the risk that Minated, or someone working directly for her would catch him before he got very far. Looking over the uniforms hanging next to the desk brought a smile to his face and the realization that luck had yet to abandon him. Senior provided his custodial staff with good-quality coveralls and one of them was roughly Du's size. The rogue agent quickly slipped into the uniform and grabbed a paper-breathing mask, the kind used for handling harsh cleaners or power painters. Properly disguised, he grabbed a wet/dry vacuum and pushed it down the hallway, towards the room he had sabotaged earlier.

"Hey, we didn't call for the cleanup crew yet," one of the half-dozen staff members told him. "We haven't fixed the sprinkler yet."

"I got sent down here to keep the water from spreading," Du answered.

"That makes sense," another man cut in. "We're gonna have to replace the carpet in the suite's living room, no sense in letting it spread to the hallway or one of the other rooms."

"You're right," the first man nodded, then gestured for Du to go inside. "Carry on."

Du went back inside the second suite, noted that a technician was replacing the sprinkler head, and began to vacuum water up from the carpet. The sprinkler water, which had remained stagnant in the pipes for a long time, gave him an ample excuse to wear the mask. He quickly filled the vacuum's tank and hauled the appliance back to his sanctuary, where he emptied it down a mop drain. Being 'friendly', he grabbed more masks for the other men, who gratefully put them on. Now Will's face had become a blank mask, among other such faces.

Du had re-filled the vacuum's tank about half full when the technician finished replacing the sprinkler head. The crew's leader called over his radio for the sprinkler water to be switched back on. Of course, the alarm went off again.

"We must have another head off," the technician said. "We got no water coming out of this one."

"I hear water in that suite," another man declared pointing at Du's former prison.

"Get out of here, everyone!" Elisabeth Minated ordered, striding down the hallway flanked by the two men who had recently 'checked' on Du.

"Hold on, lady," the crew's leader protested. "You might be some sort of consultant but I'm the maintenance chief. If we don't get this cleaned up and fixed before it gets any worse, Senior's gonna have my hide!"

"I'll take care of that!" Elizabeth snapped. "And if you don't get out of here, administrative screw-ups will probably mean your next paycheck will be delayed for at least a month."

"You make a very good point," the chief conceded. "C'mon guys, let's get outta here." The technician started to gather his tools and Du started to lug the vacuum back to the closet.

"Don't worry about the tools!" Elisabeth snarled. "Just get out of here, all of you, right now!"

"You heard her," the chief told his crew, which now included Will Du. "We'll pick it all up later."

Will Du tagged along with the maintenance crew as they left the guest wing. Elizabeth and her cronies didn't spare him a second glance.

* * *

As soon as the criminal mastermind bullied the maintenance crew into leaving the wing, she led her men to the makeshift prison.

"Open the door," she directed one of the guards.

"It isn't locked," he informed her, when a light touch caused the door to swing open.

She snarled an oath before storming towards the door. The guards stopped her before she could get inside.

"He might still be in there," the thug told her. "Let us check it out before you go inside."

Seething with impatience, the consultant waited for her muscle to clear the area. They were competent at their craft, drawing tazers and keeping together as they checked the suite. They paused for a few moments in the smaller of the suite's bathrooms but put their curiosity on hold while they confirmed that their prisoner was no longer in his gilded cage.

"He's not here," the first one told him. "But you need to see this." The two henchmen led the consultant to the bathroom to view Du's handiwork.

"Why would he do this?" The second asked his employer.

"It helped him escape…somehow!" She snapped back. "How, I don't know and I don't care! He's running loose on this island right now…if he hasn't gotten away already."

This last thought brought on something akin to panic in the usually collected Elisabeth Minated. She quickly keyed her personal communicator.

"Operations center," the calm voiced answered her call. "What can I do for you, Miss Minated."

"When did the last transport leave the island?" She demanded. "I don't care if it was air or sea."

"Let's see…" Elisabeth could hear the man calling up records on his computer. "We had an empty plane leave, after dropping off supplies, three hours and fifty-seven minutes ago."

"He was here at the time," one of Ellie's henchmen told her, in a voice that wouldn't carry over the communications channel. Ellie nodded her understanding.

"When is the next transport, of any sort, scheduled to arrive?"

"Four hours, thirty two minutes."

"I want a complete lockdown of this island, my authority and responsibility," she told the man. "Nothing arrives or departs until further notice, do you understand me."

"Perfectly, Miss Minated. You realize I'll have to report this to Senior when he wakes up."

"I'll do that personally. Contact his personal assistant and schedule a meeting at his earliest convenience."

"Yes ma'am. Anything else?"

"Yes. Has there been any outgoing communications recently…say the last two hours?"

"Let me check. We had an outgoing call to a switchboard in Greenland about half an hour ago."

"Don't you think that's a little odd?"

"Not really. The Seniors order glacial ice from a company in Greenland. That's why the iced drinks are so good around here, very pure ice."

"But ordering it at six in the morning?"

"Junior might still be up. You know that he keeps some very odd hours."

"Okay, I'm going to Senior's waiting lounge. Please let his assistant know that it's vital I brief him as soon as possible."

"Consider it done."

Elizabeth Minated closed the communication channel and faced her thugs. "The two of you will assemble the remainder of my personal staff," she told them. "And you will search this island from top to bottom until you find Bill. Senior's going to be awake before too much longer and he's going to want to know what's been going on. If I don't have a gift-wrapped law enforcement spy to present to him, I'll be very tempted to give him your heads on a platter, instead."

* * *

_A/N:_

_I know that it's been a long time since I've updated and I hate to make excuses, but reality has been pouding on me. For those of you who have been enjoying this story, I must assure you that I'm committed to seeing it through, even though my posting rate has slowed down to a barely noticable level. As always, I must express my appreciation for everyone who has offered reviews, comments and suggestions. Big thanks go out to Joe Stoppinghem for his tireless Beta effort._

_Until my next posting, whenever that may be, you all have my best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	24. To Leave the Island

Chapter 24: To Leave the Island

Elisabeth Minated's father had done his level best to separate his daughter from his smuggling empire's unpleasant side effects. He also refused to smuggle drugs or weapons, which kept the violence associated with such an enterprise to a minimum. The result of this selective law-breaking and familial insulation meant that Ellie hadn't grown up to be a coarse, uncaring young woman. On the other hand, her father _was_ a criminal so, despite his best efforts, some of the more disagreeable aspects of that life inevitably seeped through to his daughter. As such, Ellie was more capable of taking such things in stride than was the typical young woman. A Case in point, this very moment.

When she arrived at Senior's personal quarters, the old man's assistant informed her that he would meet with her at the pool. Ellie found a chair at a table that was already shaded from the early morning sun, and waited for her employer to arrive. While she was very disappointed that her staff had been unable to locate Billy (if that was his real name) she managed to occupy her mind by imagining the punishments she would heap upon them, rather than imagining the punishment Senior might inflict upon her. Thus, instead of fidgeting, she looked calm as she tapped her fingers in time with an unseen (yet clearly close by) gardener's hedge clippers.

Despite her outward calm, she was keeping a very sharp eye around her and quickly spotted her employer, accompanied by two assistants, making his way along a sidewalk towards the pool. She politely stood and waited while the elderly old man, leaning heavily on his cane, reached her table and settled slowly into his chair. One assistant adjusted the table's umbrella slightly, assuring that Senior was shaded. The second assistant reappeared, Ellie hadn't noticed him wandering off, with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses full of ice. With a slight wave, Senior sent his assistants away, leaving him alone with his consultant.

"Please forgive my unusual choice of a meeting venue," the old man addressed his employee. "But I enjoy my sunny island and my physicians inform me that I must avoid direct sunlight. The only time I can safely stay outdoors is during the morning and I am quite selfish about spending time in the open air. Ordinarily, I would include my son in such a meeting but his doctor recently prescribed a new allergy medication. Junior will be testing its effectiveness this morning."

"It's a beautiful morning," Ellie assured him. "And promises to be a beautiful day." She gestured towards the pitcher, "may I?"

"Indeed."

Ellie first poured Senior a glass, then provided refreshment for herself. After a sip, she had to admit that pure, glacial ice was wonderful in a glass of lemonade.

"So, my dear," Senior got to the matter at hand, while smiling at Ellie's show of proper manners. "What prompts you to meet with a sick old man this early in the day, especially on your day off?"

"I believe we have a spy on the island," Ellie calmly admitted.

"Does this explain why you ordered _my_ island isolated from the rest of the world?" Senior delivered the question with a very mild voice but his subtle emphasis upon ownership let Ellie know that the old man was feeling that she had imposed upon him.

"It is," she agreed. "While I knew that he had infiltrated the island, I had no way of knowing everything he had learned." (Okay, that wasn't a _complete_ lie.) "Since I had no way of discounting anything, I assumed the worst."

"A wise precaution," Senior nodded. "What else did you do?"

"I ordered him detained in the guest wing's lower level. However, he escaped."

"Escaped?" Senior's voice was still very mild. "My architect assured me that these suites were every bit as secure as a maximum security cell."

"I'm not sure," Ellie admitted. "But he used the sprinkler system…somehow."

"Hmmm…this is a potential weakness," Senior mused. "I must discuss this with my architect at the earliest opportunity. Tell me, my dear, where do you think this 'spy' may be hiding?"

"Actually, I'm right here."

Senior and Ellie spun to look at Will Du, who was wearing one of Senior's maintenance staff uniforms. The undercover agent carefully set the hedge clippers down, while still several strides away from the two and slowly approached them with his hands away from his body.

"I assume that you will want one of your guards to search me and I promise no resistance," he informed the two.

"Indeed, young man," Senior couldn't help but smile just a little as he gestured for one of his assistants. Soon, another of Senior's employees arrived and frisked Du, after which, he removed the pilfered uniform. Another servant brought another glass filled with ice. Once his servants were finished with their chores, Senior gestured for Du (who was once again wearing the clothing he had worn at the party) to join him at the table.

"So, young man," the elderly villain addressed his guest. "Traditionally, this is the time that you tell me your imprisonment came about due to mistaken identity."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break with the tradition," Du countered, with a tight smile. "I am, like your consultant told you, a spy."

"Well, this is most unusual. I was prepared to counter all sorts of false claims. Straightforward honesty catches me somewhat off guard."

"My apologies sir, but it saves time."

"And at my age, saving time is actually a good idea. It would appear that you want something from me, since you discarded your clever disguise and approached me. Perhaps we can make some sort of deal."

"That's exactly what I propose," Du gestured towards the pitcher. "May I?"

"Miss Minated, kindly pour our guest some refreshment. Young man, you have proven yourself to be clever and I do not like clever adversaries handling food and drink that I intend to consume. So, what do you want from me and what do you offer in return?"

"First of all, let me confirm that I am, indeed, a law enforcement agent," Will told his host. "Which agency…I chose not to reveal. Since I am an agent, I'm sure that you can appreciate that if you inflict any sort of permanent harm upon me, the fallout will be severe."

"Ah, but are you not under cover, young man? I am certain that any such agency has already disavowed any knowledge of your existence."

"Officially, yes. Mr. Senior, we both know how this shadow world works. If you strike me down, my employer will feel compelled to respond in a similar manner. If you make my capture public, my employer will make additional efforts to expose some of your ongoing schemes…and I'm sure you have a few."

"You state the obvious, young man," Senior reprimanded. "However, I believe that you are defining the situation so that you can present your offer. If I am correct, please continue."

"You are correct," Du nodded. "Here is my proposal; first, I wish you to let me leave this island, unharmed. This will prevent any vendettas between you and my employer. In return, I will tell you how I escaped from your luxury prison."

"I am tempted to accept your offer," Senior replied, after a moment's thought. "However, you are getting by far the better of this agreement and I do not wish my villainous colleagues to think me a poor bargainer."

"I thought you would say that, so I'll sweeten the deal just a little bit…conditionally. My employer believes that Miss Minated and Miss Dementor are developing some sort of worldwide extortion scheme, the type that Professor Dementor occasionally tried. Upon my release, I'll report that you released me when you learned of such a scheme. This will confirm, to the various international law enforcement agencies, that you are abiding by your agreement to avoid such schemes. When Trudy executes her plan, you'll appear completely innocent."

"Whereas if I do not, I may be implicated as a major financier," Senior finished for the agent. "You make a very compelling argument, young man. Now, what is the condition?"

"That immediately upon reaching an agreement, you'll confine Miss Minated to her quarters and cut off all of her contact with the outside world. You'll keep her isolated like this for at least twenty-four hours after I leave your island. I don't want her to warn Trudy that I'm on my way to rescue Bonnie."

"You believe that you can rescue Miss Rockwaller in a single day?"

"I actually have no idea," the agent shrugged his shoulders. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know where Trudy has taken her. However, twenty-four hours sounds like a traditional, yet reasonable, allotment."

"Indeed it does, young man. Assuming I accept your terms, how and when will you leave my island?"

"I have already made preliminary arrangements."

"And they are…"

"Kim Possible, she's on the way here. If I fail to contact her again, she will assume that she needs to rescue me, as a precursor to rescuing Bonnie."

"And if you inform her that you are not a prisoner, she will simply provide you with transportation, after she arrives here?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well, young man," Senior nodded, pressing a button on the top of his cane. "I accept your terms. However, I must take precautions of my own."

Summoned by his cane, half a dozen burly guards surrounded the trio.

"You two," Senior pointed his cane at a pair of guards. "Escort Miss Minated to her personal quarters and confine her there. Take her communications device and instruct my operations center to disconnect all communication to her quarters. Once this is done, lift the lockdown that she has ordered."

"But Senior!" Ellie protested. "I was only trying to protect y…"

"We will discuss this at a later time, my dear. Gentlemen, you have your orders."

"You three," he continued, pointing to more henchmen while the first two led Ellie away. "Will accompany this young man, Mr…" Senior politely left the title hanging.

"My employer prefers that I don't provide a last name," Will informed his host. "Bill or William will suffice."

"Very well. You will accompany William to the guest wing's lower level. Once there, you will call for my head of security to meet you. William will explain to him how he managed to escape from his suite. After this, you will allow him to use another suite to clean up and rest. You will treat him as a guest, but you will not allow him to communicate with anybody off of my island."

"I see a flaw, Mr. Senior," Will interrupted. "I won't be able to tell Kim that she will be facing a polite reception."

"Leave that to me, my friend. As I said earlier, you are very clever. I apologize that I will not allow you to make use of any code words, or other sublime forms of communication."

"Very clever yourself, Mr. Senior. Thank you for agreeing to my proposal."

"I thank you, young man. Now, kindly fulfill your part of the bargain by demonstrating to my staff how you escaped."

Will left to do just that, flanked closely by three of Senior's guards.

"And finally, you," Senior addressed his last guard. "Kindly fetch a video phone for an old man. I have another hour before the sun will force me inside. I might as well take care of this chore while enjoying the morning."

* * *

"I tell you, KP, this just seems to be wrong," Ron groused to his fiancé. "This is what, two trips in a row that we've just landed on Senior's Island? Don't get me wrong, I don't exactly miss climbing up the sheer cliffs, scrambling over the electric fences and dodging the spinning tops of doom, but you have to admit that it's a lot more…traditional."

"We can sneak in twice, next time," Kim smiled a little at his antics. She understood that Ron was every bit as concerned as she was about Bonnie and was trying to lighten the mood. "I'm just impressed that Will was able to get Senior to let us land on the island and pick him up. I wonder what he did to swing that?"

"I wonder if it's anything I want to know about," Ron mused.

"Miss Possible," the pilot interrupted the conversation. "I have the airway's beacon and I'm starting our approach. We'll be on the ground in about twenty minutes and thank you, once again."

"Don't mention it," Kim gave a dismissive wave. "Anyone could have parachuted from a helicopter, landed on a flying airplane and changed that flat tire in flight."

"Yeah, but parachuting with a tire lashed to your chest wasn't much fun," Ron grumbled.

"Don't be such a baby! Didn't it cushion the impact?"

As per the pilot's prediction, they were quickly on Senior's airstrip. One of Senior's men pushed a set of stairs to the cockpit hatch while several more started to unload the plane's cargo. Senor Senior Junior and Camille arrived on an oversized golf cart at almost the exact moment Kim and Ron reached the bottom of the stairs.

"My father has asked us to convey you to his office," the younger Senior informed them. "He says that he has some important things to discuss with you and that you will be back here before our henchmen finish unloading the plane."

Kim and Ron hopped into the cart's rear seats. To their surprise, Camille took the wheel and drove them away from the airstrip.

"Junior, I've seen you pilot helicopters," Kim said. "Do you have trouble driving a cart?"

"Ordinarily, no," he answered. "However, my physician has recently given me a new prescription for my allergies and we don't know how it will affect my awareness." He smiled slyly and continued, "I know that you thrive upon danger but I would be a poor host to provide you some during a simple ride."

"That's thoughtful," Ron nodded. He looked to his side, where a shear cliff dropped several dozen feet into the Mediterranean. "I'm all for naps, but not when you're driving."

Ron quickly questioned his assessment, since Camille clearly didn't have very much experience handling any vehicles. Fortunately for everyone in the cart, the changeling didn't have to worry about oncoming traffic. She managed to avoid several collisions with immobile objects and delivered her passengers to her goal.

"Won't the two of you be joining us?" Kim asked, when the married couple made no move to exit the cart.

"My prescription, once again," Junior informed them. "My father feels it unwise to have me present in a meeting, when I may suddenly blurt out details best kept secret."

"Don't worry about us," Camille added, with a mischievous grin at her husband. "We'll be fine. I'm going to try something I've never done before."

"TMI!" Kim and Ron shrieked, then beat a hasty retreat to where another man waited to convey them inside the building. They had composed themselves before being ushered into the old man's office.

"Miss Possible," Senior lurched to his feet. "And Mr. Stoppable. I suspect you are aquainted with this young man, who prefers to not divulge his last name."

"Bill will do," Will declared, standing up from one of Senior's guest chairs. While the agent had some bruising on his face, he didn't appear to have any serious injuries. "Thanks for coming."

"Anytime," Ron declared, stepping up to shake hands with the older man. "Bonnie might not exactly be a friend, but we're not about to sit around when she's in trouble."

"A very honorable attitude," Senior smiled. "Please my guests, be seated. We will have some light refreshments and discuss matters, before I send you on your way."

Kim, Ron and Will quickly sat down, knowing that the elderly man wouldn't sit before they did. Moments later, a butler appeared with a tray of drinks and snacks. As soon as the butler left, Senior got to the matters at hand.

"I know that the three of you wish to depart as quickly as possible, so I shall be brief. Miss Possible, I have no wish to break my agreements with various national governments and international agencies. I freely admit that I continue to perform swindles, smuggling and other non-violent crimes. However, I have turned my back upon worldwide extortion and other such confrontational villainy. While my island's defenses can withstand attacks from my rivals, they cannot repel a major navy. Should I make another overt attempt to seize control or wealth from the world, the Spanish, Italian and French navies will return to my shores. This time, they won't simply perform exercises, they will bombard my island before landing marines."

"For this reason, I have agreed to allow William to leave this island," he continued. "I suspect that Trudy is planning to execute a scheme much like her father used to, something technical, violent and as subtle as a tsunami. Since she has abducted Miss Rockwaller from this island and my consultant, Miss Minated, has been financing some of her manufacturing operations, I am already a person of suspicion. If I were to detain William, possibly preventing him from foiling her plan, I will become an accessory. This is something I cannot risk; therefore I am releasing him. I honestly hope that he remembers that our agreement involves him reporting my cooperation to his superiors, just as he hopes I remember to isolate my consultant for a short time."

"I'll remember," Will assured his host.

"Excellent, young man. I must say that your escape was most devious and my security chief is even now devising methods of preventing similar escapes. I believe that our business is concluded. As my employees should be finishing unloading the aircraft any moment, it is time to return your possessions."

The old man pressed a button on his telephone, which prompted one of his henchmen to enter the office, pushing a cart. The cart held both Will's and Bonnie's luggage, as well as a box containing the agent's wallet and wristwatch.

"Before I bid you all a farewell, I must address you, Miss Possible," Senior concluded. "Miss Possible, you performed a great service for me when you recovered my daughter-in-law. When I provided a home for you and your partner to live in while attending college, I did so to express my admiration, not to return your favor. By allowing you to take this very polite spy from my island, I am returning your favor. I hope that we do not meet again."

Kim blinked at Senior's seemingly impolite statement.

"Do not think that I am tired of your company," he quickly explained. "Miss Possible, I have very little time left in this world and the two of us usually find ourselves upon different sides of most laws. After a number of years, we finally find ourselves capable of interacting without confronting each other. I fear that if we meet again, it will because you find yourself, once again, thwarting one of my villainous schemes. Should that happen, I suspect that I will not have enough time remaining to reconcile, once again. Instead, I will take this time to say farewell, my charming and vibrant young foe and please think kindly of an old foe."

"Of course I'll think kindly of you," Kim sprang to her feet and, throwing decorum out of the window, rushed forward and planted a peck on the old man's cheek.

"Ah, my dear, you make me wish that I was a half-century younger. Instead, I must ask you to live a long and happy life. Now, leave quickly and rescue that other lovely young lady, Bonnie Rockwaller. My son and his wife will be waiting to convey you back to the airstrip."

With nothing else to say, Will and Ron simply took turns shaking hands with the elderly villain before following Kim out of the office. Soon, they found themselves outside, where the golf cart waited for them. Nearby, Junior lounged on a lawn, with a wide smile on his face and his arm around a docile sheep.

"I never thought of you as handling livestock," Kim remarked. "Is this some sort of pet?"

The sheep bleated very indignantly, shrugged out from under Junior's arm before blurring and changing into…

Camille!

"My love discovered that she can take the form of mammals!" Junior declared. "Out of her love for me, she had done so in order to allow us to…"

"Don't say it!" Will interrupted him. "I don't even want to think about it. First she takes your form so that you can meet the handsome stranger and now she…she…eeewwww! Don't let us interrupt your…entertainment, we can drive ourselves to the airstrip! You people are SICK!"

Kim and Ron were also looking decidedly queasy as they piled onto the cart. Although the vehicle didn't have very much horsepower, Du managed to make it kick up dust as he gunned the tiny motor and rushed back to the airstrip, leaving Junior and his wife to stare, befuddled, after them.

"My love," Junior asked his wife. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course, sweetie."

"What is so…sick…about you morphing into a sheep and sitting next to me, so that we can determine if my new prescription overcomes my allergy to wool?"

"I don't know," Camille confessed. "Sometimes, I don't think I'll ever understand anyone with a net worth under 6.2 million."

* * *

Queasy stomachs not withstanding, Kim, Ron and Will quickly reached the airstrip, where their aircraft was waiting to take off. Once in the air, the teens and the rogue agent exchanged information. After Du explained his capture, Kim explained their theoretical connection between Professor Dementor, Dr. Bofox and Trudy Dementor.

"It's better than anything that I have," Du informed his rescuers. What's your plan?"

"It's still evolving," Kim shrugged. "This plane will drop us off in Naples. From there, we'll pick up another cargo flight to Munich. Professor Dementor seemed to like Bavaria, and our last reliable Dr. Bofox sighting was there."

"Wade's still digging for additional leads," Ron added. "So we're going to have to play things by ear. What kind of help can we expect from Global Justice?"

"None," Will answered. "I might as well tell you that I'm going rogue. My employer has specifically prohibited me from attempting to rescue Bonnie. I'm sure that once I return home, I'll be off the force and probably in prison."

"Just why are you bucking GJ?" Kim asked, with a very intent look on her face.

"Bonnie's my partner! We went into danger together and I can't leave her behind. If Global Justice isn't ready to move in time to rescue her, I'll do it."

"So it's only loyalty to your partner?"

"Does there have to be more?" Du demanded.

"There doesn't _have _to be," Kim admitted. "But I think there _might_ be."

"That's something I should discus with Bonnie before I discus it with anyone else."

"That's all I needed to know," Kim nodded.

"Did I just miss something?" Ron asked.

"Nothing important…yet," Kim told him. "We might as well rest up and try to get ready for anything."

"While we're waiting, I'd like to borrow your Kimmunicator…if I can use it to dictate a letter," Du requested.

"Sure," Kim handed him the device. "It has a virtual keyboard. What are you going to write?"

"My last report and my resignation letter. Dr. Director deserves an explanation and an update."

"You're serious about this adventure costing you your job, aren't you?" Ron chimed in. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"In a few months, I might be asking you to review my resume."

Both Kim and Ron could tell that Will didn't feel like talking about his situation, so they settled back to get some rest while the former agent composed his correspondence. He was still working when they changed planes in Naples. Somewhere over Switzerland, he finished his work and asked Wade to forward the message.

"Email the message and attachments to Global Justice's web site," Will told the technical guru. "In the subject line, use lambda gamma lambda pi. This will forward the email, immediately, to the interested party." Will paused a moment before adding, "don't try to reuse that trick. Global Justice's mainframe will automatically remove that code from its programming after the first use."

"Wouldn't think of it," Wade assured him. "I'm one of the good guys…usually. Okay, it's on its way."

Both Kim and Ron pointedly ignored Will's flinch.

"I have a new Dr. Bofox sighting," Wade continued. "Do you want the details?"

"Please and thank you," the redhead replied.

"Okay, I got a couple of possible sightings around Munich yesterday, so I started to hack into various cameras, like ATM and traffic cameras, and feed the readouts through some voice recognition software. That takes time, even with high speed software so I wasn't able to confirm a spotting until a few minutes ago."

"So you know exactly where Bofox is at?" Ron asked.

"No, I know that he was in Munich last night. Since then, I've put an emphasis on monitoring cameras in that area," Wade paused a moment. "It isn't exactly a nice part of town."

"Oh, where was he?" Du asked.

"I don't know the German term, but in the U.S. we'd call it the skid row section."

"Can you give us any more details?" Du asked.

"He looked like he was heading into a…well…less than glamorous drinking establishment."

"A seedy dive," Will translated.

"Well, if you want to be technical…yes. Anyway, I'm scanning footage from the camera that caught him going in, hoping that I'll catch him coming out."

"You realize that it's mid-afternoon in Germany," Will pointed out. "He's long gone from any dive."

"I know that but if I can find footage of him leaving the bar I might be able to track his movements. I'm also backtracking his path to find out where he came from. If he has an apartment or hotel room, I should be able to find it by the time you reach Munich."

"Impressive," Will commented.

"That's our Wade," Ron declared. "My man, you usually have a plan. Let's hear it."

"I'm setting you up with a ride from the airport to the dive. If I can track down additional leads, I'll divert the ride. If I can't find any other leads, you'll want to start your investigation at the dive."

"That makes sense," Kim told him. "You rock, as always."

"Why don't you guys get some rest? If this mission works out the way most of them have, you'll be moving pretty fast once you get there."

The three passengers took Wade's advice. Fortunately, there were no disturbances, which allowed Will, in particular, to rest up. The rogue agent was exhausted after a night spent escaping from Elisabeth Minated's clutches. Shortly before landing, he borrowed the Kimmunicator to check his personal email. After reading a message, he had paled considerably.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked him.

"I just received a reply from Dr. Director. Let's just say that she's not exactly thrilled with what I'm doing. I'm under orders to return to Global Justice's headquarters immediately and that's what I'm going to do…after we rescue Bonnie."

"You know that we can handle it, don't you?" Kim asked him.

"I'm sure you can but she's _my_ partner. This is your operation, so I'll follow your instructions but there's no way I'm going to simply leave while she's in danger."

"What's going to happen to you when Dr. Director gets ahold of you, after defying her orders?"

"The world can always use another ditch digger or button pusher, I guess."

"Hey guys!" Wade called in, halting the conversation. "I've got some more information. What to hear it?"

"Please and thank you."

"I managed to find some footage of Dr. Bofox leaving the bar. He left on foot and I tracked him for several blocks but he entered an area that I'll call a camera shadow, a place where there aren't any cameras I can access. Anyway, I've checked cameras all around this area and he hasn't left yet."

"Anything interesting in the area?" Kim asked.

"It's full of cheap, less than glamorous housing."

"The sort of place that people without reliable income tend to frequent?" Du interrupted.

"I guess," Wade shrugged his shoulders. "I'm only thirteen and I've never had to look for a place to live. Anyway, Dr. Bofox is either still in this area or he left without one of my cameras picking him up. My guess is that it's the former."

"So are we going to have to search for him in this camera shadow area?" Ron asked. "Just how big is this area, anyway?"

"About three city blocks," Wade answered. "Hold it! I've just picked him up leaving the area. I've got him live!"

"Where's he going?" Kim demanded. "Can you patch his image through the Kimmunicator?"

"I don't know and sure, here it comes."

The three passengers clustered together to observe their quarry.

"He's looking rough," Ron commented. "I mean, I'm not one for excessive grooming or fashion, but he's looking bad."

"I agree," Du added. "The…I'll call him a doctor…has a reputation for taking pride in his appearance. I'd say that he's recently left employment, and therefore has no income. I'd also guess that since Wade hasn't been able to uncover any recent employment or income records, Dr. Bofox has been working for someone who doesn't report his or her payroll."

"Like Trudy Dementor," Wade commented.

"We're can't be sure, but she is the leading candidate," Du remarked. "May I offer a suggestion?"

"Suggest away," Kim told him.

"You're famous and Ron's becoming more and more well known. Also, the two of you just don't fit in around the rougher areas that the quack has been frequenting. Why don't you have Mr. Lode find you a safe house, someplace you can slip in and remain anonymous? I'll go into the seedy part of town and extract the doctor. If the local stations start talking about Kim Possible showing up in Munich, it might clue Trudy in that you're on her trail."

"It makes sense to me," Wade answered. "You'll be on the ground in a few more minutes. I should have something thrown together by then."

* * *

Dr. Bofox ambled along one of the streets that he was sure wouldn't appear in any tourist's guide to Munich and grumbled about the situation he found himself in. Just a few short weeks ago, the AMA had shut down his practice and placed him under investigation. He honestly didn't know what that organization had against him. After all, his cosmetic surgery did what he promised and most of his patients didn't suffer major side effects. Sure, there were some long-term side effects, but his patients only wanted to look good for a few years, anyway. He had resigned himself for a long, embarrassing and expensive legal battle when a mysterious, potential employer showed up and offered him a great deal of money, tax-free, if he would just relocate to Germany and reproduce his morphing experiments.

Of course, he had pointed out that the U.S. Courts had confiscated his passport and forbidden him from leaving the country, pending the investigation. When the polite young man informed him that he would take care of travel issues, Dr. Bofox knew that he was about to stop toeing the ethical line and jump in the deep end of illegality. Not seeing much of a future as a defamed plastic surgeon, he jumped at the chance.

At first, things had gone fairly well…or at least as well as working for a known criminal could go. His employers didn't identify themselves and Dr. Bofox didn't ask. They also didn't reveal their exact location, although they allowed him occasional outings. They would blindfold him and drop him off in Munich, then pick him up later, blindfold him, and return him to the lab. Working in some very good laboratory facilities, he was able to recreate his morphing treatment much faster than he had originally developed it. That's when the problems started.

His employer wasn't interested in aesthetic beauty; she wanted to know what happened to the altered matter. He honestly didn't know and didn't care! His subjects could make any body modification they wanted; they could eat junk food all-day and still look like a supermodel on the beach! What more could a plastic surgeon's patient want? When his employer, a young, blonde woman, started talking about alternate dimensions and mass-to-energy conversions, he was completely lost.

Unfortunately for the doctor, his employer had a very short temper. One morning, several burly henchmen burst into his room, blindfolded him and dropped him off, with his baggage, in Munich. Before leaving, they simply told him that his services were no longer required, he would be wise to just forget what he had been doing for the last couple of months and that he should leave the country as soon as he could. He was more than willing to comply but the performing the task wasn't very easy.

Without a passport or a national ID, he couldn't purchase a ticket, on any form of transportation, to leave the country. While he was trying to track down a…less than legal…mode of transportation, such arrangements were neither well advertised nor regularly scheduled. As such, he was forced to frequent some of the city's less savory establishments, hoping to find someone willing to look the other way when he climbed onto the plane or ship. In the meantime, he was forced to seek accommodations from landlords who didn't provide private plumbing, clean rooms…and also didn't check for identification until well after the tenant moved out.

He stifled a sigh, shuffled into a pub where the clientele had seemed moderately friendly and took a seat at the bar. He had to admit that the beer, even in a dive like this one, was very good as he ordered a pint.

"You look like someone down on his luck."

Bofox turned to see who had spoken. He saw a dark complexioned young man who had spoken English with an American accent.

"I'm just trying to find a way out of town," Bofox shrugged, trying not to sound too eager. He hoped that the hints he had dropped over the last two days had brought in a potential mark.

"So just buy a ticket," the young man shrugged. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"It is if you lost your passport," Bofox countered. He figured he might as well not even pretend to be a local.

"Hmmm…I'm guessing that since you're not at the embassy, you don't exactly want to wait for a new one. Maybe I can help."

"Maybe you can…"

"I go by Bill."

"Maybe you can, Bill. What do you have in mind?"

"This."

Bofox felt a sharp pain in his belly. He looked down to see a thin wiring extending from the young man's watch to his stomach. Before he could lurch to his feet or even yelp in shocked pain, he felt a powerful jolt and the world went dark.

Will Du caught the slumping doctor before he could fall off of the stool.

"Don't worry about him," the former agent told the bartender. "Your beer is a lot stronger than what we're used to. I'll get him back to his room so he can sleep it off."

Hoisting the comatose quack over one shoulder, Du quickly made his way outside, barely catching the bartender's remark about Americans having eyes more stout than their stomachs. Once on the sidewalk, he lugged the doctor into an alley, down a stairway and into an unused cellar, which he had scouted out a few minutes ago. Will dropped the man onto a smelly, unsteady chair and waited for him to regain his senses. It didn't take long.

"What did you do to me?" Dr. Bofox demanded.

"That's not important. What's important is that you are about to tell me what a quack cosmetic surgeon is doing in Germany."

"I told you! I'm trying to get home to America!"

"Which doesn't explain how you got here when American authorities were investigating your practice. Doctor…and I use the term loosely…you aren't fooling me."

"Who do you work for?"

"That isn't important! You were here working for Trudy Dementor. What were you doing and where were you working?"

"My employer never told me her name. How do I know that you know what you're talking about?"

"First, I'm guessing that she's your former employer. Secondly, she's in her late teens, blonde, cute, a physics genius and has about the same humanity as a starving great white shark looking at a lost seal pup."

"Okay, maybe you know more about me than I thought."

"Her constant companion is a man named Hendle who's highly protective of her and looks like a side of beef draped over a human skeleton."

"You've proved you point. What do you want and what's in it for me?"

"I've already told you what I want; I want to know what you were doing and where you were doing it. As for what's in it for you…let's just say that if you don't start talking, you're going to be in a great deal of pain. Trudy's up to something that's going to injure somebody very dear to me and I'm in no mood for playing games."

"What I was doing is easy enough," Bofox admitted. He then spent several minutes explaining how he had recreated his morphing experiments and the frustration he experienced when his employer was interested in the conservation of mass and energy, rather than beauty.

"I mean, what's the point of dragging me all the way across the ocean if you aren't interested in my work?" He concluded.

"Okay, you've been very helpful. Now, where did this work take place?"

"I don't know, I was always blindfolded when I left."

"You're going to have to do better than that."

"Okay, it took about forty-five minutes of car travel to get from my lab to Munich, but I think a lot of that was circling to confuse me."

"Still not enough! If I was a fairly sleazy doctor, I'd have a way of betraying a potential employer."

"Okay, fine! I have a GPS built into my watch. While the lab itself was shielded against all outside signals, I managed to get a fix a couple of times when they took me outside to bring me here."

"Stay here," Du told him, once he gave the coordinates. "This door is the only way out, and you'll have to go through me to escape. Don't listen at the door, either."

Dr. Bofox remained in his unsanitary seat while Du stepped outside the door.

"Did you get that?" He said into his cell phone, which he had active during the entire question and answer session.

"Every word," Wade replied. "The location he gave appears to be an factory in Dachau. Legitimate manufacturing would make a very good cover for black market manufacturing and it's close enough that a driver could take a very circuitous route and still make the trip to Munich in the allotted time."

"In other words, it's the best lead we have."

"Exactly."

"Okay, lets run with this. Now, what do we do about my prisoner?"

"I have an idea," Wade assured him. The young genius took a few minutes to explain. Will found himself impressed, once again.

"Okay doctor," he told his prisoner, as he walked back into the cellar. "Here's how I'm going to help you. In an hour, a truck will stop outside for ten minutes. You will climb in the back and the driver will not ask any questions. This truck will drive to Berlin, where it will stop two blocks away from the American Embassy. You will leave the truck, go to the Embassy and tell the guards your identity and the fact that you are outside of the U.S. illegally. You will then claim that your former employer actually kidnapped you and forced you to perform your experiments. It isn't a very solid story but I think that with what's about to come to light about her activities, most authorities won't question you too deeply. It isn't much, but I think you'll be better off getting well clear from here as soon as you can."

Dr. Bofox couldn't help but agree.

* * *

"Okay, what's the plan?" Ron whispered to Kim, as he and Du followed the redhead towards the dark, silent factory.

"The usual," Kim answered. "We sneak in and search the place. With any luck, we'll either find Bonnie or some clues to where Trudy has her."

Ron and Will nodded their agreement. The trio used grappling guns to scale the side of the tall building and reach the roof.

"Okay Wade, we're up," Kim reported. "What next?"

"I've tracked down the last official interior floor plan," Wade told her. "And I'm downloading it to you right now. If you go to the roof's south edge, about the center, you'll find an exhaust cap. Take it off and you'll find a duct leading directly down to a mechanical room in the sub-basement. That should be a good place to start."

The three rescuers didn't need to discuss the plan. Kim used the Kimmunicator to scan the aforementioned cap for security devices. Finding none, she nodded to Ron and Will, who removed the cap. Moments later, Kim scanned the ductwork for laser or ultrasonic motion sensors. Again, the coast was clear. The three attached another line and took turns rappelling down the dark shaft, finding themselves in a dim, noisy furnace room.

"What now?" Will asked.

"We usually have a distraction," Kim answered. "Something like…"

Suddenly, Kim was interrupted by a feminine howl of agony. All three rescuers recognized the voice.

"Bonnie!" Will roared.

Before Kim or Ron could stop him, the former agent charged out of the door. Kim barely managed to tackle Ron before he followed the older man. Shouts of surprise and alarm now sounded from outside the room, belying the fact that the factory wasn't as deserted as it appeared.

"This is the time to think!" She hissed at her fiancé. "If we mess this up, Bonnie might not survive!"

"Sorry KP," Ron apologized. Kim nodded her acceptance.

"Okay Wade, it looks like Will's providing the distraction," Kim reported to the young genius. "Where should we go from here?"

"My best guess is to the…"

The Kimmunicator went dark as Bonnie screamed again.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Just for the record, if anybody made the same assumption Will and Team Possible made upon seeing Camille as a sheep, you're the ones with dirty minds, not me. Seriously though, thanks for the interest and reviews. As always, I must extend my thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his patient beta work._

_Until my next posting, best wishes..._

_daccu65_


	25. Dementor's Lair

Chapter 25: Dementor's Lair

Bonnie Rockwaller slowly came awake to find herself lying on an uncomfortable cot in a dimly lit room. Unbidden, the memories of how she came to find herself amongst the sparse furnishings filtered through her head. She recalled the party on Senior's Island, the triumphant feeling of knowing she and Will were about to accomplish their mission…then the shock and terror of Ellie incapacitating her. She remembered Trudy and Ellie gloating over her and Will, and Hendle hauling her off like a sack of potatoes. She remembered locking gazes with Will as he lay, unable to help her.

The following journey had been a nightmare, Trudy and Hendle treated her as freight, tossing her into a plane's cargo hold with the rest of the payload and taking off. She had sprawled on the cold metal for hours, helpless as the airplane's buffeting bruised her immobile body until a final series of painful jolts announced that they had landed somewhere. Moments later, the hatch flew open and Hendle stalked inside. Again, the big man simply picked her up like any other load and dropped her in the back of a truck.

The following journey had been warmer and shorter, but much rougher. Every time the truck turned, slowed or accelerated she rolled, helplessly, across the floor. She had picked up even more bruises by the time the vehicle stopped for the last time and Hendle approached her once again. She had a moment of hope when he threw a blanket over her, thinking that her captors were beginning to consider her comfort. However, the big man simply rolled her up in the fabric, clearly disguising her, before throwing her over his shoulder again.

Dim light and city noises had filtered through the blanket for a few moments before a door swung shut, muffling the sounds. She remembered her captor carrying her through several doorways and down several flights of stairs before he set her on a metal surface and roughly yanked the blanked away. She had blinked several times at a harsh light but eventually her eyes adjusted and she was able to glance around a little bit.

The room had looked similar to a doctor's office. She had found herself lying on some sort of examination table, surrounded by bizarre, painful-looking instruments. Hendle first tied her wrists and ankles to restraints on the table, then produced a knife and cut away her clothing.

Bonnie recalled how terrified she had been…in part because the man hadn't reacted to her nudity in any way. He simply acted like a craftsman doing his job. Once she was completely naked on the table, he stuffed her ruined clothing in a bag and left, leaving her naked on the cold, metal surface. Minutes later, Bonnie heard some sort of pump and soon noticed a mist in the air. A pleasant, floral scent filled her nostrils for several minutes. After that, a powerful fan turned on and an antiseptic, hospital smell replaced the floral scent.

A large figure in a hazard suit, she assumed it was Hendle again, entered the room. Whoever it was scrubbed her quickly down with a harsh-smelling sponge before untying her and transferring her, roughly, to a gurney. He had then covered her with a thin, paper sheet before wheeling her out of the examination room, through several corridors and doors to…here?

Bonnie couldn't be sure. She recalled the figure wheeling her into a small room then lifting her off of the gurney and onto a cot. He had replaced the paper sheet with a coarse, woolen blanket before wheeling the gurney out of the room and closing the door behind him. With the door closed, the room had gone pitch black and Bonnie, despite her terror and confusion, had been overcome with exhaustion and fell asleep.

How long had she been asleep? Had her captors moved her again, while she was unaware? Bonnie decided that that was unimportant. Since she had no idea where she was the last time she was awake, not knowing if she was still there was no real loss. What was important was that she now had control of her limbs. Moving slowly, stiffly and painfully, she hauled her protesting body to a sitting position and looked around. There wasn't much to see.

The tiny cell was perhaps eight feet long and six feet wide. Other than her cot, the only furnishing was a sink/toilet combination on the wall opposite the door. In front of the door, highlighted by the light seeping in underneath it, Bonnie spotted a small pile of clothing. Gratefully, she slipped on the undergarments and jumpsuit before returning to her cot to sit and think.

While bruised and sore, she didn't feel injured. Instead, she felt…empty. Stirring up a bit of hope, she got up and tried the door…locked. Shrugging, she went to the sink and drank some water, but the empty feeling didn't go away.

"Bonnie Rockwaller," a harsh voice made her nearly choke on the water. "We're about to come in." She spun and noticed a small hatch had opened in the door, revealing a grate.

"If you cooperate with us, you will experience some pain," the voice announced, through the grate. "If you resist us, you'll experience a great deal more pain. The choice is yours."

Without further ado, the door swung open and two burly men entered, pushing a wheelchair.

"Sit." One of them commanded, pointing to the chair.

For a moment, Bonnie thought about fighting but quickly reconsidered. It was hopeless; even if by some miracle she could overpower the two goons in front of her, she'd be lost. She not only didn't know how to get out of the building; she had no idea where the building was located. Would she find herself in a desert or a miserable swamp? Scowling at the two men, she flopped gracelessly into the chair. Showing no emotion, the two men shackled her wrists and ankles to the device before placing a hood over her head. She didn't know where they wheeled her to, only that it took them several minutes to get there.

"Sit still," one of the men demanded, before they released her restraints. "Stand."

At least they had the consideration to guide her to her feet. They then directed her to turn and sit once again. The seat she found herself sitting upon also had restraints, which they used to secure her limbs, once again. When one of them yanked off the hood, she could see that she was back in a laboratory.

After a moment, Bonnie decided that this was a different room than she had been in earlier. It was larger than the previous room and a wide mirror dominated one wall. The seat, which one of the men leaned back to turn into a table, was actually comfortable. The room also had better lighting, which allowed Bonnie to study her surroundings as the men pushed the wheelchair outside. Trudy came inside, closing the door behind her.

While the blonde girl glared at her captive, she didn't say anything. Bonnie decided to hold her tongue until Trudy broke the silence. Rather than doing so right away, she produced a small syringe and drew a sample of Bonnie's blood. The blood sample went into one of several machines along one wall. Trudy hummed softly to herself as the machine made quiet whirring noises. After a few minutes, it made a loud ping. Trudy looked at a display on the machine, then smiled and punched a button on an intercom station.

"We're ready," she declared to her unseen audience. "Get the receivers in here and set up."

"I wasn't about to start gloating until I was sure my plan was ready to execute," she told the restrained brunette. "But now that all my pieces are in place, I realize that my father was right; it feels good to prove my genius to a captive audience."

Trudy pulled a stool up so that she could sit in Bonnie's field of vision and continued. "You see Bonnie, while I am a physics genius, I have also dedicated a great deal of time studying history. I didn't study the subjects the typical historian studied. No I studied the techniques, motivations and successes of the greatest criminals in the past. Do you know what I discovered?"

"No," Bonnie answered, hoping that Trudy would keep talking and delay doing anything.

"I discovered that the truly great criminals realized subtle, yet important truths," Trudy explained, as several men entered the room and began to set up odd equipment around Bonnie's seat. "The first was that you don't need to worry about what's important to you, you should worry about what's important to others. Once you manage to control something, whether it's important to you or not, you can get what you want from somebody else. Sure, this sounds like trade but when combined with the second truth, it becomes most profound."

"The second truth is that violently seizing whatever you want should be saved as the last resort," she continued. "If you are truly smart, rather than simply strong, you can make your victim give you what you want. Now, I don't know if a bubble-headed cheerleader paid attention to European History but picture a couple of examples: The ancient Romans actually paid off the Celts to prevent their city from being sacked. The Mongols forced the Russians to pay tribute, as well."

Trudy stood up, making room for the men setting up the equipment, and continued her monologue, "think of that, Bonnie! The Celts didn't care one whit about the Romans' buildings but they understood that the Romans would pay gold and grain to keep them. Once the Celts demonstrated that they could destroy Rome and the Romans realized that it would be easier to pay off the aggressor than rebuild the city, the tribute became logical for both sides. The Romans had something akin to peace and the Celts had a regular income, rather than having to pay a price in blood to extract a single payoff."

"Now, as our civilization has progressed, some things have become more valuable than gold; even more valuable than any material possessions. Guess what one of these immaterial things is, Bonnie."

"Patents?" Bonnie guessed, looking nervously at the metallic objects the henchmen were assembling around her. They looked vaguely like satellite dishes and they were all pointed at her.

"Surprisingly close! Patents are actually applied knowledge and knowledge is no good unless you can exchange it. Tell me Bonnie, what is the transfer of knowledge between people?"

"C-communication?"

"Excellent! Yes, communication has become one of the most valuable commodities in the world! It is so incredibly valuable that our civilization spends millions of dollars in effort to improve and safeguard it! That was my first scheme, to develop a way of eavesdropping upon communications and using the knowledge for my own purpose. However, I realized that it had been done so many times before that the very organizations I wished to victimize were very good at preventing it. Did I despair?"

Bonnie never figured Trudy for the drama type, but the blonde physicist stared at the floor for several seconds, letting the tension build, before snapping her head up again.

"No!" Trudy exulted. "I reviewed my history and realized that I was making things too complicated. Picture the Celts outside of Rome, did they understand how to build Roman buildings and aqueducts? No, they simply knew that the Romans would pay to keep them. That's when I realized that I didn't have to decipher the communications; I only needed to destroy the communications! Of course, that brought up a new set of problems."

"I quickly discarded the idea of disrupting landline based communication," Trudy explained, while Bonnie noticed that the men had finished their jobs and were exiting the room."

"To do so, I would have to destroy or seize a number of wires, fiber-optic cables or switching stations. Then I thought of communications satellites, which carry so much intercontinental communications data. However, I realized that the world's combined corporations and governments could easily replace satellites as fast as I could destroy them. That's when I had another stroke of genius, I realized that I was distracted by the communication infrastructure, rather than concentrating upon the communication itself."

Trudy's face took on a gloating expression. Clearly, she was getting close to her conclusion. "We are now in the twenty-first century, Bonnie Rockwaller, vast amounts of data are carried via wireless means and electromagnetic fields are my specialty. Imagine it, being able to cut off all wireless communication! Your cell phone won't work, your wireless network will not function, GPS fails and airliners' homing beacons suddenly go off line. Imagine the potential for extortion!"

Trudy spun around, facing away from the captive brunette and raising her hands as if lecturing a vast crowd.

"How much would you pay to make sure your loved ones' medical records can be transferred to where they are needed? How much would you pay to make sure that the airliner your loved ones' are riding upon could land safely? How much would you pay to transfer financial and legal records, when needed? Now, imagine millions of people faced with questions just like this and you'll begin to comprehend the grandeur of my concept!"

"Of course, for someone with my genius, developing a method to disrupt wireless communications on a global scale is child's play. However, one hurdle remained; I needed more power than the local power grid could deliver. Of course, even if I used the grid I ran the risk that my scheme would disrupt the very energy source I was utilizing…a self-defeating scheme."

Trudy now spun around, waggling her index finger at her captive as if correcting her. " No, I recognized the need to produce power of the sort that your small mind simply can't comprehend. However, simple physics came to my rescue. Any matter can be converted to vast quantities of energy. Of course, scientists and industrialists have spent years trying to find convenient, efficient methods to do so. However, those very intelligent men and women were constrained by certain humanitarian ethics that have never constrained me."

"That was why my father and I abducted Camille Senior," Trudy continued, now in a rant mode that would have made her father proud. "We realized what everyone else did not; that she was capable of changing her body's mass! Nobody else seemed to question what happened to that mass, so we investigated the phenomena."

Trudy's hand and expression dropped in remembered frustration. "Unfortunately, her mass modifications were random. We brought in Dr. Bofox to help us fully understand the process and while we never figured out exactly where her excess mass came from or went to, we determined that the mass was converting to energy before crossing a dimensional barrier. Unfortunately for me, such energy is only available for nanoseconds, which is clearly not stable enough to provide a usable power source. Once I realized this, I expelled the quack and reviewed some of my father's rival's work in the field."

"The missing Doctor Drakken once developed a way to send a limited amount of mass across a dimensional barrier. He attempted to use it to rid himself of Kim Possible. However, his process requires a spark of energy in order to begin the transfer. Do you realize what that spark happens to be?"

"N-n-no," Bonnie stammered certain that she didn't want to know and also certain that Trudy was going to tell her.

"Blushing," Trudy chuckled. "Simple, embarrassed blushing causes the matter transfer to start, much like a simple match can ignite an inferno. Unfortunately for Drakken, Kim somehow avoided embarrassing herself into oblivion. Each embarrassing episode removed a little of her mass to a border zone. As long as she had a little mass in this dimension, she could pull back completely, with no catastrophic effects. Had she slipped completely away, she would have been unrecoverable. However, I've improved upon Drakken's process."

"Once we embarrass you," Trudy informed her captive, as she spun and strode towards the door. "The machinery around you will stabilize this conversion. Your body will be slowly converted to energy and consumed by my transmitters." Trudy closed the hatch behind her and continued to speak via an intercom speaker. "Even miniscule amounts of your matter will produce vast amounts of energy. Who knows? If the world's businesses and governments accede to my demands in time, I will shut down the machinery and halt the process. You might even be able to recover…eventually. Of course, the international community has never been an organization to move quickly. Now, let's have a little blush and get started."

"I think you've missed something," Bonnie gloated right back. "I don't embarrass easily. Give it your best shot!"

"Very well," Trudy's voice answered. "You might want to look up. You'll see several cameras focused upon you. With the touch of a button, your image will be broadcast throughout the internet. Imagine, millions of people staring at you, right now."

"Hello, I'm a model," Bonnie countered. "I _like_ people staring at me."

"Ah, but what if we were to strip you bare? How would you react."

"You can try, but I know I have a hot body. Do you think I'll get embarrassed when millions of young women start to wish they were me, and millions of young men start to want me? Please."

"Very clever, how about your…shall we say…social indiscretions of the past? I can broadcast them over the internet and expose you!"

"Not embarrassing me, I've already admitted to it to a scandal reporter. Let's face it Trudy, I've come to grips with the fact that I'm flawed. No amount of exposing that is going to bother me a bit."

"Ah, you force me to play my trump card! When you awoke, you were so eager to cover your nudity that you didn't even think about the clothing you put on!"

"What do you mean?" Bonnie demanded, looking down at herself and developing a very uneasy feeling.

"Just this, Bonnie Rockwaller! Right now, my cameras are recording the fact that you are wearing Smartymart polyester!"

Bonnie's jaw dropped to her chest as she realized the horrid truth. Humiliation overcame her and the shamed blood rushed to her face while she emitted a howl of fruitless denial. A few moments later, when the pain started, she screamed again.

* * *

"What happened?" Ron demanded.

"I don't know," Kim answered. "Wade was about to tell us where to go when his transmission cut off."

"Is the Kimmunicator damaged?"

"I don't think so. I can still call up the floor plans that he sent me and the receiver is still picking up a signal. It's like he just stopped transmitting."

"Hello to the entire planet," Trudy's voice suddenly announced over the Kimmunicator, causing Kim and Ron to jump. "As the more studious of you have probably determined, your wireless communications have just failed. For the proper price, I will graciously restore your communication systems. Should I receive a sum of two hundred million Euros in account number…"

"Can she do that?" Ron asked, as Trudy told the world how to pay her off. "I mean, how much of the world's communications has she blocked?"

"I'm guessing she's as good as her word," Kim replied. "That must be why we can't talk to Wade."

"In thirty minutes, I will allow communications to resume for ten minutes," Trudy continued. "If I have not received my payment by the end of that ten minutes, I will block communications for another hour. Since there are at least fifty passenger airliners airborne right now, without sufficient fuel to stay aloft for the next hour and depending on instructions from various control towers, I suggest you make the payment during this grace period. Until then, I'll leave you with some entertaining music."

Kim and Ron stared at each other, slack-jawed, as polka music poured out of the Kimmunicator's speaker.

* * *

"What's our status?" Trudy demanded to her laboratory assistant, once she activated her pre-recorded music.

"The power source appears to be stable," he reported. "Although the subject appears to be in…considerable discomfort."

"Never mind her! How does the power transmission and matter draw compare to our theoretical models?"

We are expending roughly eighty gigawatts of energy, which is fifteen percent above what we predicted we would need. Our mass-to-power efficiency is greater than we predicted, at point five percent."

"So, we'll be consuming roughly 640 grams of Bonnie's mass every hour," Trudy quickly calculated. "How long will she survive this?"

"My best estimate is that she can survive about forty-five minutes before the damage to her body becomes irreparable. Once that happens, she has about another six hours before she expires, off the machine or on."

"If we receive our first hour's rent, where does that leave her?"

"I'm not a doctor, but she's young and healthy…at least for the moment," the assistant reported. "I estimate that fifty hours of proper rest and diet will allow her body to recover from a half-hour on the machine."

"So for her sake, let's hope that we receive prompt payments," Trudy concluded, with a wide grin.

Suddenly an alarm sounded, wiping the smile from her face.

"This is guard post three-beta!" An excited voice reported over the intercom's emergency channel. "Hostile intruder presen… Ooof! Urk!"

"That's on this level!" Hendle snapped, punching buttons on his security console to activate the proper cameras.

"It's Bill!" Trudy gasped, seeing the image on her screen. "How did he get here?"

"It doesn't matter _how_ he got here," the burly guard told his employer. "What's important is that he's here, right now and threatening the operation. Do you want me to take care of him?"

"Yes," Trudy smirked, thinking quickly. "But I want him alive."

Hendle shot her a confused look but turned to leave and do her bidding.

"Hendle!" She informed him. "I said alive, I didn't say unhurt. Besides, if we use Bonnie up, we'll need another fuel source."

The big man's responding smile was absolutely predatory.

* * *

"Report," Dr. Director ordered her watch commander, as she stormed into Global Justice's headquarters facility. One of the perks, and curses, of her position was a personal transport tube from her private residence. As such, she was back in the facility shortly after leaving for the evening.

"We have a worldwide emergency," the watch officer reported. "An unknown operative claims to have disrupted all wireless communications on the planet. While we cannot confirm that this is a worldwide event, we have lost all wireless communications on a local level."

"How long to get my technical team in here?"

"A half-hour," the watch officer cringed at her boss's scowl. "The communications disruption is inhibiting our network. Agent Blue is standing in the technical team's stead."

"Excellent," Betty offered her subordinate a tight nod. "Get the team in here, pronto. I don't care if you have to send messengers out to track them down personally; I need my experts! In the meantime, I'll be meeting with Agent Blue."

"Yes, Dr. Director."

Global Justice's head made her quick way to the laboratory she had set aside for Dr. Drakken's use, silently thanking whatever powers existed that she had been unable to send the brilliant, if inconsistent genius back to his Henchco headquarters. A blast of music and singing emerged from the door when she opened it.

"_Roll out the barrel, we'll have a barrel of fun._

_Roll out the barrel, we have the blues on the run…"_

"Drew!" She snapped at the man. "Quit singing and focus on the problem! This is a worldwide crises, not a worldwide karaoke event!"

"Sorry," the mollified scientist apologized. "But I've always loved that song." He turned the volume down and faced his superior.

"What have you discovered?" Betty demanded.

"I have determined that something is overriding unshielded, wireless communications with polka music. It seems to be on a worldwide scale."

"Unshielded wireless communications? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

"Not exactly. Our local, underground location is shielded from this jamming source, so we can use radios and our wireless networks down here. However, all wireless communications on the surface seem to be overwhelmed. I have been unable to triangulate the source, since I cannot communicate with remote stations."

"What have you managed to find out?"

"First of all, I've started our voice recognition software working on the single, voice communication we received. Secondly, I've made some preliminary calculations about how much power this jamming is consuming. It's a vast amount."

"How vast?"

"Somewhere between thirty and one hundred gigawatts. Numerous generating stations or highly experimental fission reactors are the only way to produce this sort of power. I'm running our data bases, trying to find evidence of hardware sales, or thefts, needed to construct such reactors. So far, I've found no records. I'm also trying to get information from various power grids to see if any of them are experiencing drains that could power this jamming transmission. I only have access to North American data so I'm certain that the source isn't on this continent."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Whoever is doing this promised a short reprieve in about fifteen more minutes. I suggest that you influence the world's governments to pay off the initial bribe and hope we can track down whoever is causing the damage. In the meantime, I'll keep trying to determine the power source."

Betty Director nodded before rushing to her office and picking up a special phone.

* * *

When Will Du heard Bonnie's shriek, he burst out of his hiding place with no clear idea of what he was going to do. He only had a vague idea of following the screams until he located her. When he plowed into a couple of shocked guards, he didn't think but simply pounded the two men senseless. By the time he was finished with the two, Bonnie's screams had gone silent. Du hoped that the silence didn't mean what he feared it could and rushed down another corridor. Near the end, another guard punched a button on a wall and started to shout into an intercom station before Du could close upon him. By now, the former agent had gotten some control over his emotions so he smacked the man's head into the station, hopefully disabling it, before unleashing a series of knees and elbows into his midsection. The man went down and Du took a few moments to riffle through his pockets, coming up with a key-card.

Deciding that going any direction was better than standing still, he tried the card on the security doors behind the comatose guard. The card opened the door and Du dragged the unconscious man into the doorway, so the doors wouldn't lock behind him. With that, he was off again, trying to keep his original course.

A small group of guards swarmed into an intersection ahead of him and Du couldn't turn in time. The would-be rescuer plowed into the surprised men in a flurry of elbows and knees. Three men went down before they fully comprehended that they were under attack. The fourth man threw a massive haymaker, which grazed Du's chin. Will used the blow to spin around and throw a spinning kick, which sent the man sprawling down the corridor.

"Shoot him!" Another man shouted, while lashing out with a massive fist. Du ducked the punch and drove his shoulder into the man's stomach, tackling him into the last man, who was trying to line up a shot with a taser. In the confused scrum that followed, Du took a couple of hard shots but he managed to incapacitate his opponents.

"Well, well, well. It looks like Billy just doesn't give up."

Will lurched to his feet, wincing at his injuries, to see Hendle approaching. A small swarm of guards burst into the corridor behind Will, cutting off escape. One of the guards aimed a taser but Will was quicker with his watch, dropping the man to the floor.

"Stand down!" Hendle ordered his fellow guards. "You've earned something, agent. You've earned the honor of having me take you down personally."

The remainder of the guards backed off while Hendle stalked towards the battered rescuer.

"I gotta give you credit," he rumbled. "I thought you'd just stay safe and sound down south. Well boy, you're about to learn that there's a price to pay for being the hero."

The big man punctuated this statement by lashing out with a fist, which Du barely managed to both deflect and dodge. Feeling a sharp pain in his side, Will dove towards his opponent. Hendle dodged him, proving surprisingly agile for his size. Du tucked, rolled, then sprang to his feet to face Hendle again. He hadn't actually intended his attack to strike home; he had maneuvered himself around his adversary, putting all of Dementor's henchmen on one side of him. Now that he didn't have to worry about getting jumped from behind, he took stock of his situation. It wasn't good.

His side told him that he had a serious rib injury and the flesh around his right eye was swelling. While he would have normally welcomed a sparring session with Hendle, he was injured, exhausted and in serious trouble. Even if he managed to overcome the burly bodyguard, the remainder of the guards would overwhelm him, leaving Bonnie still in Trudy's clutches. Try as he might, Du couldn't think of a way to overcome the situation and rescue Bonnie…

Until he spotted Kim and Ron behind the swarm of guards.

* * *

"Okay, what do we do now?" Ron asked, as Kim quickly turned down the volume on her Kimmunicator. "We've just lost our technical support."

"I know that!" Kim snapped back, her concern over Bonnie making her irritable. "Not only are we cut off from Wade, Will probably has the whole lair swarming onto him by now."

"Swarming on to him," Ron pointed out, with a snap of his fingers. "As in maybe abandoning everything else to stop the rescuer?"

"Can we say distraction?" Kim smiled back. "Okay, we might have a free hand, where should we go?"

"Here!" A tiny voice announced, as Rufus leapt from Ron's pocket and started to manipulate the Kimmunicator's controls. Kim couldn't understand the rest of what Rufus was saying, but Ron paid close attention to his smallest friend.

"Rufus makes a good point," Ron told Kim. "We don't know how accurate the floor plans are but the utilities probably haven't changed. The water, sewer and electricity probably still feed into the building at the same place."

"I'm not seeing how this is an advantage."

"I'm getting to that! Dementor's schemes usually involved machines that needed lots of power. If his daughter works the same way, she probably located her machine fairly close to this room, to avoid running lots of high-power wiring throughout the lair."

"There's a lot of 'probablies' and 'ifs' in that reasoning, but I don't have a better idea," Kim admitted. "But how does that help us rescue Bonnie?"

"If the same machine that's messing up the world's communications is also hurting Bonnie, she'll be close to the machine," Ron answered. "If she isn't nearby, Trudy probably will be near the machine. Once we get Trudy, we can force her to release Bonnie."

"You really thought this out, didn't you?" Kim complimented the beaming mole rat. "Which way do we go?"

"Thataway!" Rufus squeaked, scampering up Ron's shoulder and pointing to the door.

Once Team Possible left the furnace room, Rufus became their guide, pointing the directions they should take to reach the utility room. They occasionally heard the sounds of conflict, telling them that Will Du was still unknowingly providing a distraction. It soon became clear that the sub-basement level was much larger than the first floor, probably extending beneath the surrounding buildings. Yet, the naked mole rat's sense of direction proved certain, guiding his friends along the corridors until they reached yet another intersection and heard Hendle's bellow from around the corner. The teens peeked around the corner to see Du and the burly bodyguard squaring off, with a large audience of henchmen.

"No!" Kim hissed, catching Ron when he reflexively started forward to jump into the scrum.

"But Will…" Ron protested.

"Is distracting the guards," Kim interrupted him. "And freeing us up to stop Trudy and rescue Bonnie!"

"But he's hurt!"

"I bet Bonnie's hurting even more! We can either jump into the fight and help Will or save her! What do you think Will would want us to do?"

Ron offered a single, tight nod, clearly not happy with making the right decision. The two teens scampered across the hallway, unnoticed by the guards, who were engrossed with the brawl. Halfway down the next hallway, Rufus motioned to the teens' left.

"Through here," Ron translated. "The utility room's on the other side of the fight so we're going to have to circle a bit."

"Okay," Kim nodded, trying the nearest door. It proved to be unlocked and led into a locker room.

Kim led the way through the locker room to a door on the far side. She opened the door a crack and peeked outside. Seeing nobody in the corridor, she motioned for Ron to follow her out. Since the fight was still going on to their left, Kim led the way to the right along the corridor, looking for another door. Instead, she found another hallway.

"We need to take another left, as soon as we can," Ron whispered. Kim nodded her agreement, spotting a secure door ahead on the left wall. Luck was with the teens again, as the door opened just as they approached.

* * *

"Fraulein Dementor, I think you should see this."

Trudy turned away from the window, where she was watching Bonnie writhe in agony and scowled at her technician. Still, she knew better than to ignore the man so she stalked over and looked at his screen.

"Well, well, well," she murmured. "It seems that Hendle is having a little sport."

"Shall I summon additional guards from the cover factory, up above?"

"Nein," she shook her head. "Even if Billy somehow overcomes Hendle, there are plenty of armed guards all over him. Continue to maintain the global jamming and page me if I'm not back before the scheduled break."

"Where are you going?"

"Some sporting events are more enjoyable to watch in person," she informed the technician. "To the best of my knowledge, Billy was out to seduce either me or Ellie, so I want to see, hear and smell every moment of him getting his."

The technician actually favored Trudy with a cruel grin as she keyed the secure door to leave the laboratory. Trudy's smile quickly changed to a shocked gawk when she found Kim Possible in her face.

Kim reacted first to the surprise meeting, landing a right jab that staggered the blonde girl back into the room. Before Trudy could regain her balance, Kim hit her in the stomach with a front snap kick, driving her further into the lab. Kim followed her in, making room for Ron to dive in behind her and tackle a man in a lab coat, who was sitting at a workstation. A final, hard elbow to Trudy's jaw dropped the physicist to the ground. Kim and Ron looked through a window to see an immobilized Bonnie, in obvious pain.

"What are you doing to her?" Kim demanded of the physicist. She received no answer from the stunned blonde.

"You!" Ron snarled to the thin man he had subdued. "You speak English?"

"Ja…yes!"

"Good! What are you doing to Bonnie?"

The man clamped his jaw shut, clearly not intending to talk. Ron wasn't a very skilled torturer, having been on the end of too many beatings to enjoy inflicting pain or humiliation on anyone else. However, he could guess that this man had something to do with what Bonnie was going through so he swallowed his reluctance. He grabbed the man's left hand, seized his little finger and broke it.

"What are you doing to Bonnie?" He repeated, more forcefully.

"We…we are converting her body's mass to energy, using it to power our jamming," the man gasped.

"How do we stop it?" Ron demanded.

Again, the man clamped his jaw shut. Ron seized his ring finger.

"No! You can't just throw a switch! We are making use of harmonics within the conversion to stabilize the process. In order to stop the transfer, we must damp the reaction over several minutes."

"Start doing it!"

"No!"

Ron responded by breaking his ring finger. "I've got eight more to go before I start on toes," he snarled at the man.

"Ja…yes! I'll damp out the reaction!"

Ron helped the man to the workstation where he went to work, under Rufus's sharp glare. Ron didn't know if his little friend understood the technology but hopefully he would be able to spot obvious treachery.

"Talk to me," Ron growled to the man. "Explain what you're doing."

"Yes! The subject's mass is being collapsed into a vortex, releasing energy, which we are collecting. I am allowing the energy to back up around her. Since there is now more energy around her, it inhibits the reaction's rate."

"Let's pretend I don't understand that!"

"It's a sequential reaction! The matter is converting to energy and energy flows from an area with high energy to an area with low energy. By halting the energy flow I back up the energy. Since the energy has nowhere to go, it inhibits the matter from converting to energy and creating even more."

"Sort of like a clogged pipe not letting a bathtub drain?"

"Fairly close."

Ron looked to Rufus, who nodded.

"Okay, that works for me but it doesn't explain why you just can't shut down the reaction."

"We are dealing with gigawatts of energy!" Seeing Ron's uncomprehending scowl, he hastily added, "this is more energy than Western Europe's electrical grid distributes! If that sort of energy flow were to be suddenly interrupted, the feedback could be…catastrophic. I have to gradually lessen the rate until our systems can handle the resulting surge!"

"With her in agony the entire time?"

"Well…yes…losing body mass is going to be painful."

"So keep shutting down this machine!"

"Tell me," Kim interrupted. "How did you manage to start the reaction? I'm no physicist but I understand that converting mass to energy is a very complicated process. Did you use Dr. Bofox's work?"

"That quack?" The technician snorted in obvious disgust. "He doesn't know a neutron from his own elbow! Nein, we made use of a real genius's work…a man who called himself Drakken."

"You used one of Dr. Drakken's inventions?" Kim gasped, too preoccupied to notice that Trudy was beginning to stir. "Which one?"

"Some kind of concoction that reacts with embarrassment hormones," the technician shrugged. "I don't know how the chemistry worked, but it did. Apparently, Drakken didn't think of routing the resultant energy away from the subject, otherwise he would have eliminated Kim…Poss…i…ble."

The tech's last phrase was accompanied with a stunned stare at Kim.

"Yes, I was the first _subject_," she growled back. "And while it wasn't painful, it was far from pleasant. How long before you stop the reaction?"

"NEVER!" Trudy roared, snatching a pistol from her belt. The blonde villain quickly pointed it at Kim and fired a blast at the heroine.

Although Kim had been caught unaware, years of facing the bad guys had honed her reflexes to an almost inhuman state. She didn't bother looking to see what Trudy was up to, she simply dove, tucked and rolled the moment she heard her adversary speak and saw her move. Trudy wasn't a good marksman and hadn't even bothered to aim her weapon. The beam of yellow light that burst from the weapon missed the moving redhead, bounced off the ceiling and struck the back of the technician's chair.

Kim grabbed Trudy's weapon-hand before the villain could bring her weapon to bear once again. Trudy tried to break free but Kim was far too strong, twisting the weapon to point at the blonde as the two young women struggled. It was almost inevitable that the weapon discharged again, sending Trudy flying against a wall to slump, limp, to the floor again.

"Uh-oh."

Kim spun around, having learned that when Ron made _**that**_ particular statement, trouble usually followed. She saw the technician working frantically at his console.

"I didn't know he was left handed!" Ron protested. "I broke fingers on his left hand so that he could work on the machine! When that beam hit his chair he flinched and because he was using his right hand…his off hand, he hit the wrong button!"

"What happened?" Kim knew she wouldn't want to hear the answer.

"The reaction shut down too quickly!" The technician told her. "I can't control the feedback!"

"Bonnie!" Kim and Ron gasped at the same time.

"She won't be harmed," the technician snapped. "But the machinery's going to…"

The strange machinery surrounding Bonnie suddenly burst into a shower of sparks, adding fear to her apparent pain. Moment's later, the brunette gasped in obvious relief, apparently no longer subject to the reaction's torture.

"That wasn't so bad," Ron murmured. "I mean, we've been through a lot worse…"

"That was only the first stage!" The technician protested. "If the feedback affected the capacitors and coils it could…"

"Overload imminent," a calm, automated voice sounded from the workstation. Ron had a moment to wonder why the announcement was in English before the message continued. "Critical overload in three minutes, evacuate immediately."

"Overload," the technician finished.

"Can I assume that this critical overload will be noisier than what just happened?" Kim asked.

"Much," the man replied.

"Okay, unlock that chamber," Kim ordered, gesturing towards Bonnie's prison. "We have to get out of here! Is it safe to move Trudy?"

"Yes," he nodded. "The weapon overloads the voluntary nervous system. She'll be out for a couple of hours, but that's it." He hit another button on his console and a hatch leading to Bonnie's chamber opened.

"Ron, get Bonnie," Kim ordered. "You," she pointed at the technician, "you'll carry your employer out of here."

"But my hand…"

"You don't need it to carry her…"

Ron didn't bother to listen to the rest of the argument. He ran through the open hatch and started to undo the restraints holding Bonnie to the chair.

"Ron!" She gasped, finally realizing that someone was releasing her and it was someone she knew. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you," he told her. Fortunately for both of them, her restraints weren't complicated and Ron had a lot of experience releasing people. "What happened to you?"

"It would take to long to explain," she gasped, wincing with pain. "How did you find me?"

"We came with Agent Du."

"Bill! Bill's here? Where?"

"He's out in the corridor distracting…the…guards. Oh snap! We've got to get him out, as well!"

"What do you mean, is he hurt?"

"By now…probably. We have to move."

Bonnie could barely stagger so Ron scooped her into his arms and rushed back to the control room, where Kim had loaded the comatose Trudy over the technician's shoulders."

"How's Bonnie?" Kim asked.

"I'm hurting worse than the morning after one of your 'welcome back to school after the summer' workouts," the brunette interrupted. "But I can still talk, so you don't have to ask Ron."

"We've got a problem," Ron added. "We've forgotten about Will. If he's still fighting the guards…"

"He might not realize that the place is about to blow," Kim concluded. "We'll collect him on the way out."

"Wait! This place is going to blow up?" Bonnie demanded.

"It's standard procedure," Kim snapped back. "You!" She addressed the technician, "was that warning from the workstation local, or did it announce the emergency to the whole lair?"

"Local," he replied. "In case of an emergency, Trudy wanted to be able to escape without having to climb over a panicked mob, that was also trying to escape."

"Charming," Bonnie commented.

"Is there any way to sound an alarm to make everyone leave?"

"At each stairway. Trudy isn't a complete scoundrel, she just wanted a head start if she had to flee."

"Get moving! Go out the door, take a right, take the next right then head for the nearest exit. We'll be right behind you."

"But we can get out more quickly by going…"

"Not the issue," Kim interrupted. "We have someone to pick up on the way, now move!"

The technician, carrying Trudy, led the way with Kim right behind him. Ron, still carrying Bonnie, brought up the rear. It only took a few seconds to reach the clustered guards.

* * *

At first, Will felt abandoned when Kim and Ron sneaked across the hallway and left him to his fate. Then he realized that the two were going to rescue Bonnie while he provided the distraction. Long accustomed to being the star, Du swallowed his pride and assumed his new role.

"Let's see how you do one on one," he snarled at Hendle, darting forward and lashing a quick right at his opponent's jaw.

Hendle pulled his head back so the blow merely grazed his jaw and responded with a right of his own. Although Du blocked the punch, his ribs screamed in agony from the strain. Will ducked the following left and landed a glancing kick to Hendle's leading knee, throwing the big man off balance. Both fighters recovered and squared off again, with Hendle limping slightly.

This time, the bodyguard didn't wait for his opponent to make the first move but came forward with a front kick, then a left-right punch combination. Du managed to dance back from the kick and block the left but the right came in low and hit his injured ribs. Despite his pain, the rogue agent managed to spin with the punch, lift his left arm and drive the elbow into the side of Hendle's head.

Both fighters staggered back, one gasping and clutching his ribs while the other shook his head, trying to regain his balance. Although he was struggling to breathe, Du realized that he had to keep his opponent busy. He staggered forward and attempted to kick his opponent in the groin. Hendle was dazed, but not _that_ dazed. He twisted his hips, took the shot on his butt and lashed out with a massive fist. Du staggered away from the blow and the two squared off again.

This time, Hendle took the fist move; keeping his arms up to protect himself, he bull-rushed his smaller opponent. Du immediately realized that the larger man was trying to either pin him up against a wall or tackle him, so he darted to his left and kicked Hendle's lead leg, causing the big man to smash into the wall. Unfortunately for him, Hendle quickly bounced back, spitting out pieces of dry wall, and charged again. This time, the burly bodyguard was ready for Du's dodge to the left and connected cleanly, driving the smaller fighter into the wall.

Du groaned as his ribs protested the constriction, but he gamely landed two hard elbows to Hendle's head, forcing the big man to back away. Du had to brace himself on the wall to stay upright and there was no way he was going to be able to maneuver. Hendle seemed to realize this, as well. Despite the fact that he had blood pouring out of a cut over his left eye, he came on again.

Hendle was far from foolish. He knew that his opponent was expecting him to simply shoulder-slam him into the wall so at the last moment he dropped low. Du's knee, which would have connected with Hendle's chin, flew harmlessly high as Hendle swept Du's foot out from under him. Will landed flat on his back. Before the agent could recover, Hendle sprang to his feet and drove the toe of his boot into the man's injured ribs.

Will couldn't contain the howl of agony, but he gamely drove his left hand's extended fingers into the back of Hendle's knee. This time, Hendle dropped with a grunt of pain. Du tried to regain his own feet but he felt tearing in his side whenever he moved. He had at least one broken rib and it was starting to inflict internal damage. Hendle struggled to a kneeling position, swept Du's defending hand away with one meaty paw and drove his other fist into the downed agent's injured ribcage. This time, Du couldn't even manage to scream in agony as everything went dark.

"You're pretty good," Hendle grudgingly admitted, heaving himself to his feet. "If you hadn't tried to mess with my employer, I might have even tried to get you to change sides. Instead, I'm gonna give you one last lesson before we haul you off."

The big man drew his foot back to deliver a final kick to Du's head but was distracted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to confront a very angry-looking Kim Possible. A moment later, a slender knee crashed into his groin and an elbow blasted his temple. He saw a momentary burst of bright light, followed by darkness.

Kim stared at the assembled guards, who stared back, not knowing exactly what to do. Ron gently set Bonnie on the ground before stepping forward to back up his fiancé. Like a herd without a leader, the henchmen simply stared at the two.

"This place is about to explode," Kim told them. "We've got to get out of here."

"I don't think so," one of the guards snarled back. "We all run and you get away, is that your game? Let's get 'em!"

This remark jolted the remainder of the guards into action. They surged forward, intent upon overwhelming the duo. Kim and Ron rushed forward to meet their opponents. Ron took the lead, crouching low and driving his shoulder into the first man's belly. The picture-perfect football tackle sent both Ron and his victim tumbling on top of the next guard, where the three thrashed and fought in a blizzard of flailing arms and legs.

More guards rushed towards the scrum, not daring to fire tazers or other devices into the confused melee. The first to reach the brawl caught Kim's foot on his jaw, dropping him like a cut tree. The redhead greeted the next guard with a fist to his solar plexus, followed by an elbow to the side of his head. This man fell on top of her first victim as Kim dodged a couple of yellow beams, which looked similar to the one Trudy's weapon had fired.

Another man tried to jump over the low barrier formed by Kim's first two opponents, only to have the redhead seize his foot, spin completely around and hurl the man into the remainder of the oncoming guards. While the men were struggling to their feet and one of Ron's opponents was making a high, quavering squeal (Kim didn't want to know the cause) the light fixtures all exploded in a shower of sparks. The hallway was pitch black for only a moment before emergency lights came on, illuminating the battlefield with dim light.

"Bill!" Bonnie gasped, weakly. A stream of sparks from an overloaded light fixture cascaded down upon the immobile agent. Despite her agony, the brunette managed to crawl to her companion, cover his body with her own and smother his smoldering clothing.

"Wait a minute," one of Ron's opponents gasped, barely getting the words past the blonde's chokehold. "Do you mean this place really _is_ going to blow up?"

"Doy!" Kim snapped at the man. "Hasn't it ever happened to you before?"

"Not at this lair," he replied. He spoke much easier now that Ron relaxed his hold. "Since we can either fight and get caught in the explosion or run for it, I suggest we quit fighting and run."

"Sounds good to me," Ron answered, releasing the man.

"Not so fast!" Kim snapped at the guards, who were preparing to flee. "Grab your fellow guards! You two, grab Hendle! Where's the technician?"

"Right here," the thin man replied.

"Good, get Trudy out of here! Where's Will?"

"Here," Bonnie moaned. "He's still breathing, but he's hurt!"

"I know," Kim told her. "I've got you. Ron, carry Will."

"Got it." The blonde was sporting a black eye but didn't appear to have any other injuries as he hoisted Du across his shoulders. Even unconscious, Du moaned as the motion jostled his injured ribs.

"Okay, we're all getting out of here!" Kim declared, once all of the immobiles were loaded up. Dementor's henchmen led the way to a stairway. Muffled explosions started to sound shortly after they closed he heavy doors behind them and started up the stairs.

"How much time to we have before the really big explosion?" Kim asked the technician.

"What makes you think there's going to be a big one?"

"There's always a big one."

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "We've never experienced a feedback with this much wattage. We should be safe; the Dementors have been through lair explosions before, so they reinforced the walls around this stairway."

"What about anyone in the factory above us?"

"There should only be a few up there at this time of night and the explosions' rattling should scare them off, but we'll activate the fire alarm system when we reach the ground floor, just to make sure."

The technician proved to be knowledgeable. Although the band fleeing the basement laboratory heard additional, stronger explosions, the stairwell remained both safe and stationary. Despite the fact that they were lugging numerous injured and/or unconscious people, they made good progress up the three levels of stairs to the surface. Once out of the protected stairwell, the damaged building told them just how severe the explosions were. Fortunately, the stairwell's exit was close to a building exit, so they didn't have to dodge falling debris. The technician pulled a fire alarm pull station and led the way outside.

"Keep going!" He yelled, startling the people who had trotted a short distance away from the building before setting down comrades. "We're still over the sub-basement. If it caves in, we'll be caught in the collapse!"

The ground beneath them trembled, giving his statement legitimacy. Everyone followed the man across the parking lot and two blocks down a street.

"We should be safe here," he declared, as he eased Trudy to the ground. "We're about fifty meters beyond the sub-basement."

"Just what are the odds of the sub-basement collapsing?" Kim complained, setting Bonnie next to where Ron was placing Du. While Kim was a remarkably fit young woman, Bonnie had an athletic, rather than an emaciated, build. Carrying someone who outweighed her that far, that fast was very strenuous.

The parking lot and factory trembled before the man could answer. The remaining guards stared at the spectacle even as they set their own comrades down. After several minutes of trembling, the factory started to collapse and the entire parking lot dropped roughly twenty feet into the earth.

"I'd say pretty good," the technician answered, belatedly. "Although the entire complex didn't cave in, it's a good thing we didn't dally." Kim could only nod in agreement.

"That was a pretty sweet job," one of the guards grumbled. "It would have made us all rich before you two jumped in."

"Hey!" Rufus protested, popping his head out of Ron's pocket.

"Do you really think you could have shook down the whole world for very long?" Kim countered, getting ready for another confrontation. The remaining guards seemed to be in 'revenge' mode. Ron took a position at her side.

"Long enough to grab some cash and hide," the guard told her, as most of his companions gathered near him. "Now it's all gone but maybe, if we can bring in Kim Possible, someone else will hire us."

Before another melee could break out, piercing sirens shattered the pre-dawn silence. Police cars and fire trucks swarmed the area, discouraging any further violence. Kim and Ron suddenly found themselves staring at the drawn pistols of several nervous-looking policemen.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Yet another chapter down and yet another reason for me to thank everyone for their continued support and interest in this tale. I must also express my gratitude to everyone for not getting after me for my slow posting rate. Thanks again everyone._

_As always, my fondest thanks go to Joe Stoppinghem for his conintinued beta work._

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	26. Incarceration

Chapter 26:

"Okay, I didn't expect that!"

"What just happened?" Dr. Director demanded of her blue-skinned underling.

"Something very…odd."

"Drew, I have a worldwide communications extortion plot to deal with, which has conveniently robbed me of the ability to contact most of my remote assets. Not only that, a short time ago, my number one agent told me to shove my orders. Granted, he did so in a polite, respectful manner but the bottom line is that I'm dealing with Global Justice's first known mutiny. I hope you realize that I'm simply not in the mood for cryptic remarks so please tell me if something relevant just happened!"

"The jamming signal has ceased," Drew told his superior. "A full twenty minutes before the broadcast time. Not only that, we appear to have some wireless communications on line…but not everything."

"What's on line?"

"I don't have a firm listing…not yet."

"Okay, what kind of trends can you determine? Both the President and the Secretary General are going to want to know."

"Local wireless communications, like cell phone towers, appear to be back on line. Longer range channels appear to still be down. I'm compiling a complete list but it's going to take some time."

"Could this be part of the extortion scheme? Could the extorting party be allowing partial communications, so that we can arrange for the ransom payment?"

"I doubt it," Drew shrugged. "If that were the case, I suspect we would still be hearing the jamming signal on the long range channels. This signal has simply stopped…wait a minute!"

"What!"

"We picked up a huge spike in signal strength before the jamming signal ceased. This spike may have damaged some, or all, of the communications satellites. I want to test this, but I'll need Global Justice authority to secure military and FCC cooperation."

"You've got it! I'm going to make a snap report to the President and Secretary General…assuming that I can get through. Have more information for me when I get back."

Drew Lipsky, intent upon solving this mystery, barely realized that his employer had just left the room.

* * *

Despite the fact that Kim Possible had crisscrossed the globe numerous times in her heroine career, there were still some experiences that she simply hadn't…experienced…a great deal. Fairly high on this list of unexperienced experiences was official incarceration. By the time her missions had evolved from 'provide assistance' to 'confront the bad guy', she had already gained a certain celebrity. Her early villainous opponents, such as Dr. Drakken and Professor Dementor, had been flamboyant and fairly well known to local law enforcement agencies.

Because of this, said agencies were ready to believe that anyone confronting them must be on the right side of the law. By the time she added more secretive crooks to her list of opponents, her celebrity had boomed, meaning that most law enforcement agencies took it on faith that Kim Possible was fighting the bad guy. Sure, she had visited many agencies' offices, but that was almost always to submit a report and answer a few, very polite, questions.

That wasn't the case right now.

Kim didn't know exactly what kind of plot she had broken up but the German Police were in a very edgy mood. The police had arrested everybody back at Dementor's ruined factory, and they hadn't been particularly gentle about it. While she had been heartened to see Bonnie and Will taken away in ambulances, the police had separated her and Ron. While she remained a decisive, capable young woman, she vastly preferred to have her fiancé close at hand during trying times…like now.

Kim suspected that whatever Trudy had been doing, it had worldwide implications. Although woefully ignorant about the nation's law enforcement agencies, Kim suspected that higher levels were becoming involved. Shortly after the police dropped her off in some sort of holding cell, an uniformed officer, with an interpreter, questioned her. She had been returned to the cell for what seemed like a very long time (they had taken her watch, so she didn't know how long). Boredom had been taking a toll on her manners when the police ushered her into a different room, where another man, this one wearing a suit, questioned her. This man hadn't needed an interpreter, although his English was a little rough.

Kim answered all of his questions before demanding to know what had happened to Bonnie and Will, as well as demanding to see Ron. Once Kim began to make demands, the man's demeanor went from businesslike to confrontational, curtly informing the young redhead the he was making the demands, not her. Kim swallowed her temper and asked politely for updates. The man remained aloof but told her that Ron was well and that both Bonnie and Will were in a local hospital, under guard. Shortly after this, the police returned her to a holding cell. Before the guard left, Kim informed him, in the most polite voice she could manage, that she wouldn't answer any more questions until she consulted with the U.S. Embassy.

She didn't know if this latest, long wait was due to police procedure, her request or if the police were playing with her nerves, but it felt a lot longer than the last one. Even though she was exhausted and she was alone in the cell, she just couldn't get her mind to calm down enough to even try to sleep. When her cell's door unlocked, she jumped to her feet before returning to the bunk to try to look calm. Immediately, she wondered why she did this, as there was certainly a camera recording her actions.

"Miss Possible," the guard announced. "Please accompany me. We have a few more questions, as well as some answers for you."

"Aren't you going to cuff me first?" Kim was surprised, since the police had cuffed her before extracting her from the holding cells for the first two question sessions.

"I'll answer one of your questions right now. You are not being charged with anything. We simply have a few more questions, then you and your companion will be released."

Kim simply nodded and followed the man's directions down several halls and through several secure doors. She was still determined to hold her tongue unless she had some legal consul, but chose to keep this fact to herself, for the moment. If her captors thought that a little polite treatment would make her divulge secrets (not that she had any) they'd find out their error once the questioning began.

The officer ushered her into a conference room, where three men politely rose to their feet when she passed through the door. One of the men gestured her to a chair while the guard exited.

"Please be seated, Miss Possible," he instructed her. "I will conduct introductions and answer your questions as soon as everyone arrives."

"Thank you," she answered, while occupying the indicated chair. "However, I think that you should know that I stand by what I told the guard earlier, I won't divulge any more details until I've had a chance to consult with my national embassy."

"That's where I come in," another man told her. "I'm Deputy Assistant Ambassador Taylor, Andrew Taylor. I'll wait until we're all here before I get into any details, but I will tell you that neither you nor your companion are going to be charged with anything. You may have noticed that you aren't in cuffs, nor are you shackled to the table. This is merely a briefing before your release."

"Thanks," Kim nodded, while unknowingly releasing a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Before she could say anything else, another door opened and admitted Ron, who was escorted by another guard.

Kim simply threw propriety out of the window, sprang to her feet and rushed to her fiance. Ron didn't stand still but rushed to meet her. Moments later, her arms were around his neck and his were around her waist.

"You okay?" She asked, her voice muffled by his chest.

"I am now," he answered, feeling his response on the top of her head more than she actually heard it. She just smiled and clung to him.

"Miss Possible, Mr. Stoppable," the first man interrupted, after giving them a few moments. "If you'll indulge me for a few minutes, we will brief you on the current situation. After that, we will release you to Ambassador Taylor's authority."

"I'm a Deputy Assistant Ambassador," Taylor corrected the man, with a shy smile. "So I really don't rate that title. Mr. Taylor will do, Inspector Cluss."

"Very well, Miss Possible, since your organization is known as Team Possible, I will save time by addressing you. We would have already released you, but your partner's small associate caused us additional delay."

"They locked Rufus up in an animal control facility," Ron explained, as he and Kim took their seats. "The little guy didn't appreciate being taken away from me."

"Nu-uh," the aforementioned rodent declared, climbing to Ron's shoulder and fixing the officials with a hard glare.

"The small fellow promptly escaped from his cage, hacked into the center's computer system and froze their files," Inspector Cluss informed everyone, with an amused look. "He then barricaded himself inside a food storage locker, jammed the lock from the inside and refused to come out. It wasn't until a staff member called the jail and had Mr. Stoppable speak to him over the phone that he agreed to come out and un jam the computer system. He isn't a typical rodent, is he?"

"Not by a long shot," Ron agreed, smiling, while Rufus puffed up at the compliment.

"Be that as it may, I must first inform the three of you, officially, that my government has chosen to overlook several, minor infractions in light of the fact that you thwarted a major, worldwide conspiracy originating upon German soil. The entire world is still cataloging the damage caused. Had you not been where you were and in position to halt it…the consequences could be even worse."

"Before we get into just what was going on, could you tell us what happened to Bonnie and Will?" Kim asked.

"An excellent suggestion," the inspector nodded. "The short answer is that they are both in stable condition. Although William sustained a brutal beating, he should experience a complete recovery. As for Miss Rockwaller…you have to admit that your report that she could embarrass herself to death is a little hard to believe."

"For normal people, yes."

"While Trudy Dementor remains tight-lipped, her technical staff has proven to be less fanatical about keeping her secrets. Several of her employees confirmed your story. While Miss Rockwaller did not sustain lethal injuries, she's in considerable discomfort. We have her isolated and will transport her, as well as William, back to the U.S. on the first, available aircraft. Also following your suggestion, we're keeping Bonnie and William separated."

"Why did you want to keep them apart?" Ron asked Kim.

"They're starting to get feelings for each other," she answered. "And that can lead to some embarrassing situations. They'll work everything out, once Bonnie gets the cure…speaking of which…"

"That particular orchid isn't native to Northern Europe and transportation is very tricky. Back in the U.S., Miss Rockwaller will be closer to the Amazon Basin, which will put her closer to the cure."

"Just keep her away from her mother," Kim added. "Now, just what was Trudy doing?"

Inspector Cluss spent a long time explaining exactly what had happened.

* * *

"Are you sure of your figures?" Dr. Betty Director demanded of her subordinate.

"I've rechecked the research twice," Drew informed her, in a cold voice. "When I compiled the reports, the extent shocked me, as well. My first review only generated minor changes. My second review only confirmed the revision."

"It's hard for me to believe that the typical communications satellite isn't hardened against just such interference!"

"The engineers who installed such safety protocols didn't think such a powerful burst was possible," Drew shrugged. "To be honest, I didn't, either. The overriding signal was incredibly strong but the final burst before it ceased…that was unimaginable! When I tell you that I cannot conceive of a power source that large, I remind you of the signal I generated during my diablo plot."

"I understand…but eighty-five percent of the world's communications satellites have been destroyed?"

"Eighty-seven, to be exact and most of them appear to be disabled, rather than destroyed."

"What's the difference?"

"The disabled satellites may be repaired in place by replacing various components. It's a relatively simple procedure…if it didn't have to take place in low Earth orbit. Still, it should be quicker and easier to repair these satellites than to replace them."

"And in the meantime?" Betty prompted.

"Inter-continental communications are severely curtailed," Drew answered, in a somber voice. "Especially mobile communications. Those few satellites that survived that last burst…and I believe it was more luck than design that saved them…simply cannot handle the sheer volume of communication that modern life demands."

"But other direct means," Betty protested. "The transatlantic cable, direct radio links, shortwave radio…"

"Are either unreliable or don't have the capacity to take up the slack," Drew interrupted his superior." "In addition to that, the planetary GPS system is down and we absolutely must have satellites to operate that. Fortunately, with the exception of some transmitting towers in Northern Europe, line-of-sight communications is still fully operational."

"Okay Drew, speaking as a businessman and a scientist, where does that leave us?"

"For at least the next several months, we're going to have to prioritize our intercontinental communications. Lower priority messages might have to be recorded, compressed, and transmitted at low use times. In addition, trans-oceanic travel is going to become less routine without GPS. Once a ship or plane leaves a continent, it will be effectively untrackable until it comes within range of another continent."

"How long will this last?"

"My former friend, Dr. James Possible, has made great strides with reusable rockets so it's only a question of how long it will take to diagnose the system failures, build repair components, train astronauts to repair…"

"Drew!"

"All right, I'll make a conservative estimate of six months before we have these systems back to a point close to where they were yesterday. If anyone wants to hear my advice, it's to concentrate on the navigational systems first."

"That's what I wanted to hear, Drew. Now, what caused this? Give me your conclusion first, then tell me how you arrived at the conclusion."

"Before I do that, I want you to know that I'm still speculating a great deal."

"Understood…proceed."

"It appears that this crises was caused by a massive signal, which originated from Northern Europe. The signal was originally powerful enough to override wireless communications channels but not powerful enough to damage the infrastructure. Shortly after this party initiated the scheme, it must have experienced a hardware failure, which both damaged its hardware and generated a pulse signal, which damaged the worldwide infrastructure."

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

"The signal overrode every communication channel with an exposed, wireless component. The satellites that were not damaged were on the far side of the planet, from Northern Europe, during the pulse. The only earthbound transmission sources to experience damage are located in Northern Europe. Since the signal has not resumed, I must assume that the party is incapable of re-establishing it."

"Does the city of Munich fall within your suspected, originating locale?"

"Yes, it does," Drew mused, after consulting a computer screen. "Wait a minute! Doctor Director, do you know something that I don't?"

"A lot of things! However, in this case, I knew that my number one agent decided to disobey a direct order and confronted Trudy Dementor. His last communication, several hours before the jamming commenced, was that he was heading for Munich."

"Trudy Dementor is a fields expert," Drew nodded. "Such a scheme would be well within her area of expertise. Perhaps your agent caused the malfunction, rather than a hardware failure."

"I don't know if I should hope for that or not," Betty grumbled.

"What was that?"

"If he didn't cause the malfunction, it means that I am perfectly free to tear him apart for disobeying my orders. On the other hand, if he proved instrumental in thwarting this extortion scheme, I can only tear him up a little bit, can I?"

"I suppose so. The criminal organizations I formed had much less formal punishment procedures. Certainly the German Government will use some of the limited communication resources to inform Global Justice of his whereabouts."

"I'm expecting a report at any moment. Anyway, continue your work and feel free to contact any source you need, with full Global Justice authority. We need to keep on top of this crises and the repair efforts."

* * *

"So we don't have any way of letting our folks know that we're okay?" Kim asked Deputy Assistant Ambassador Taylor, as Inspector Cluss led the three Americans through the prison's corridors towards the out processing area.

"Not at the moment," he confirmed. "We don't have a complete grip on communications across the Atlantic at this time. In addition all airliners, worldwide, have been ordered to land, so you won't be able to return home until we sort things out." The man barked a short laugh, "of course, I've been away from the Embassy for several hours, so we might learn a great deal more when we get there."

"Why doesn't somebody just call you?" Ron asked.

"Cell phone service seems to be down around here," the man shrugged. "It might have something to do with that jamming plot you broke up. Anyway, here we are at out processing, you should be able to pick up your possessions."

It only took about fifteen minutes for the efficient officers to return Kim's and Ron's possessions, including the bags they had left on the roof of Dementor's factory.

"I am now releasing you to your embassy official," the inspector informed Team Possible. "You will not be charged with any crimes, but we may need additional statements from you. We will contact you through your embassy."

"So we have to stay at the embassy?" Ron asked.

"Not at all!" Mr. Taylor told him. "You simply have to update us where you intend to go and check in regularly. While we have some accommodations set aside for you, you're welcome to find your own…as long as you leave contact numbers and addresses. Shall we go?"

"Don't you have a driver?" Kim asked, as the man led them to a luxury car.

"Ambassadors have drivers," he informed her. "Deputy ambassadors have drivers. Assistant ambassadors have drivers. Deputy assistant ambassadors drive themselves. Don't worry, it isn't a long drive to Berlin and I won't get us lost. We'll get the two of you settled in, you look like you're about to collapse."

This last statement reminded both Kim and Ron that they hadn't had any real sleep for over 36 hours. It was late afternoon and the dimming light, smooth road and the car's comfortable upholstery soon had them struggling to stay awake. Following a force of habit, Kim turned on her Kimmunicator and was shocked to see she had an incoming message.

"Kim," Wade's image spoke, as soon as she keyed the answer button. "This is a recording. Most of the satellites I use to contact you appear to be down, so I can't talk to you directly. Please don't try to call in until you hear what I say at the end of this message. That said, since I don't know how in the loop you are right now, or even when right now is, I'll brief you."

"First of all, satellite communications have been severely disrupted, which is why I can't talk to you live. Hopefully, I'll have more information for you by the time you call in. The communications mess has also affected continental and intercontinental airline travel. With long distance transportation a problem, the NCAA has canceled the upcoming cheerleading competition…sorry about that."

"That's so unfair!" Kim snapped, even though she knew that Wade couldn't hear her. "Would they cancel a football championship or a basketball tournament? No! They would reschedule!"

"Uh, KP?" Ron tried to interrupt. "Wade's still talking."

"Don't these people think that we work hard?" Kim continued. "Don't they think cheerleading takes skill and athleticism? It's seriously hard work!"

"KP…Wade!"

"Oh, sorry."

"…so I don't know when I'm going to be able to get you back home," Wade continued. "Hopefully, spring break will give us enough of a break so that you don't miss any classes. Both your parents and the Stoppables are very worried about you, just like I am. That said, please use the passive-search recording feature as soon as you can. To use this feature, hit the number four button and record your message. You have six minutes of recording time to work with. When you finish your recording, hit the number two button. After this, press the number three button twice…rapidly. After this, the Kimmunicator will wait until it finds an available satellite channel and transmit your message. If you try to call in like you usually do, the Kimmunicator will go into an active scan mode and may overheat if it can't establish a channel in a few minutes. I guess that's about it, contact me as soon as you can and I'll let your 'rents know the sitch."

"Leave it to Wade to be able to adapt and overcome," Ron commented.

"I just wish the NCAA officials would do the same," Kim sniffed, still irritated by the fact that her competition was canceled. "Sorry everyone, I know it's not your fault."

"I was just going to attribute it to exhaustion and stress," Mr. Taylor assured her. "Why don't the two of you record your message, in case your communications proves more reliable than the Embassy Service's?"

Realizing how worried their parents must be, Kim and Ron quickly composed a message.

* * *

"Ah, my dear," Senor Senior Senior addressed Ellie Minated, as she approached his table. "It is so nice of you to join me for a late supper."

"It's kind of you to invite me," she managed to keep the tremor out of her voice. "I hope this meal remains pleasant."

"I have no intention of berating you," the old man told her. "Nor do I intend to poison you, so you are free to enjoy the repast. However, I will explain your transgression and the actions I will take because of this."

"I think I can guess my mistake," Ellie sighed, as she took her seat. "I never should have brought Bill to the island and once I found out he was some sort of agent, I should have gotten him off the island as soon as possible."

"You are wrong, my dear. I bear you no ill will for bringing William onto my island. I fully intended you to socialize with your acquaintances and until Miss Dementor's bodyguard voiced his suspicions, William and Miss Rockwaller seemed to be a young couple. No, I am most displeased that you failed to exploit a resource at your disposal."

"Resource…what resource?"

"William, of course."

"I don't think we could turn Will," Ellie protested. "I mean, after what he went through to escape so he could try to rescue Bonnie…"

"Your assessment is correct," the elderly man agreed with her. "At least, it matches my own opinion of his character. However, I did not mean that you should have tried to sway his loyalties. Indeed, one who's so easily influenced cannot be trusted."

"Then what use could he have been?" Ellie was clearly confused.

"I am somewhat disappointed that I must point it out to you," Senior sighed. "Perhaps my advanced age allows me to see things from a different perspective. My dear, I spent decades in business before taking up villainy as a hobby. This time spent exchanging goods and services with both friend and rival taught me that information is the most valuable commodity in the world."

"So I should have tortured Will for information?"

"Indeed no," Senior sighed again. "I am sure that he would have resisted long enough for his employer to render obsolete any information he possessed. Why do the young always look to violent, obvious means to an end?"

"So how could I have gotten information from him?" Ellie pleaded.

"Why do you insist upon receiving information? Have you not considered the benefits of providing information?"

"You mean give up secrets to a spy? Isn't that what he wanted?"

"Did I say that you would give him valuable, true information? My dear, a known informant in your midst is an incredible asset. Through him, you could have fed his agency exactly what you wanted them to know. Now, with him gone, this same agency will inevitably make another attempt to infiltrate an agent and this time, they may succeed." The old man shook his head sadly. "The best shield against infiltration is the infiltrator's illusion of success."

"But…how can you be sure that he wouldn't learn something he shouldn't?" Ellie demanded. "Just having him on the island is risky!"

"Much less risky than having his agency make another attempt," Senior chided her. "My dear, you are speaking with your pride, not your logic. In my younger years, I too took offense at the concept that government agencies or rival organizations could infiltrate my operations. It took me many years to perceive my error."

"You…you mean you've allowed spies to infiltrate your staff?" Ellie gasped.

"Currently, my personal valet works for Interpol, one of my communications technicians works for the Mossad and my landscaper is a member of MI-5. Were I to expunge these agents from my island, those agencies will attempt to place additional agents on my staff and I may not detect the replacements. Instead, I can utilize these spies to tell these entities what I want them to hear. There have been many times that I've influenced these agencies to raid my rivals, based upon what I've let slip."

"So Bill…" Ellie prompted.

"I would have eventually learned who he worked for and then I would have made use of him," Senior finished for her. "Or perhaps not. I do not have much time left and this is why I am disappointed in you. I had hoped that you would exhibit the maturity and wisdom that I took decades to acquire. I see now that this isn't the case."

Ellie couldn't answer that; she simple looked down in shame.

"Be that as it may," Senior continued. "You still show much more wisdom than I did…at your age and you continue to be the best manager I have considered. Still, punishment is in order both for failing to perceive such a potential asset and for aligning yourself with Miss Dementor, when she was preparing such a blatant scheme."

Ellie flinched, as visions of the sort of 'education' her father's rivals had employed rushed through her mind.

"My dear, you misunderstand me," Senior chided her, upon seeing her reaction. "I will not cause any physical harm to yourself or your family. In the past, I have handled such disciplinary action by sending the offender to oversee my activities in locations such as Antarctica or Point Barrow. However, a child who grew up on the chilly Baltic Sea won't be phased by such locations. No, if you wish to remain in my service, you will spend the next several months working at one of my smaller operations in the Gobi Desert. Such time spent in the unpleasant heat and dust will make you appreciate my hospitable island. When you return, you will hopefully have more caution as well as a more open mind towards potential assets."

Ellie simply nodded her agreement and made a mental note to purchase several litters of sunscreen.

* * *

"Okay, here we are," Mr. Taylor announced from the driver's seat, startling Kim and Ron out of the doze they had dropped into. "I'll take us to the staff entrance, since the public entrance is pretty crowded."

Kim looked out of the car's window, trying to force her struggling mind to get to work. Sometimes, taking a short nap was worse than going without sleep. She had a quick glimpse of a fenced enclosure, with a line of people filing through a gate, before the car turned a corner. They were soon stopped at gate, where a Marine approached the driver's door.

"Ron," Kim poked her partner, as the Deputy Assistant Ambassador rolled his window down. "We're here."

"Hrk…snrk…huh, wha?"

"Wake up! We're at the embassy and the guard will want to see our passports!" Kim instructed the still slumbering young man, as she dug her own passport out of a pocket.

"Just five more minutes, mom." Ron protested. "I did my homework last night, so I'll be good for homeroom."

"Ron!" Kim gave him a harder shove.

"I…okay, okay," Ron began to paw at his pockets, trying to find the required identification. Rufus pulled the aforementioned I.D. out of his pocket, just as the guard reached in the back seat.

"How is it, Corporal Fife?" Mr. Taylor asked the guard, as he returned the two passports.

"Busy, but everyone's pretty polite about it," the Lance Corporal told the staffer. "We have a direct feed to Washington but it has limited capacity. So far, we're relaying messages from citizens who either have problems or will be missing transportation back to the States. There isn't enough capacity to send 'we're well and will talk to you when we can' messages; at least not yet. Hopefully, we'll sort everything out in a few more hours. Transportation's going to be a real issue in the next couple of days."

"About what I expected," Taylor sighed. "Kim, Ron, you're probably going to have to wait in line to register."

"That's fine," Kim answered, as Taylor drove to his assigned parking space. "We aren't asking for preferential treatment."

Mr. Taylor was kind enough to find the teens a place to store their baggage while they waited in line.

"Still no live signal," Kim told Ron, after checking her Kimmunicator. "But it says that it managed to get our recorded message out. I wonder when Wade will be able to send us a response."

"No telling," Ron sighed, looking at the long line they were about to join. "I hope I can stay awake until we reach the front." The line extended out of the embassy building itself, across the grounds and almost to the front gate. Neither teen could completely stifle a sigh as they trudged to the business end of the still forming cue. Just as they reached the end, they heard a disturbance at the main gate.

"I appreciate that you're looking out for your employees," a stern, yet patient voice announced. "But my orders are to only admit U.S. citizens onto the Embassy grounds."

"I know I'm not a U.S. citizen," an excited voice protested. "But many of my models are! They could be anywhere in the world and I'm only trying to make sure that they are well, while they are in my employ! Doesn't the Embassy encourage employers to see to their employees' welfare?"

"Cocoa Banana?" Kim asked, leading the reluctant Ron out of their place in line to talk to the fashion mogul, who was trying to argue with a Marine Guard.

"Kim Possible!" He shouted, very excited. "Perhaps you can help me! I cannot enter this Embassy and ask after my American models! I have several who are now on break and I cannot contact them to find out if they are well or not! Perhaps you can help me."

"Of course," Kim assured him. "What can I do?"

"Perhaps you could deliver this list of names to someone inside," the emotional man produced a piece of paper. "These are the names of my American models and the addresses they maintain back in the U.S." He looked to the guard, "may I give her this list?"

"Yes sir," the guard nodded.

"Excellent!" Cocoa handed Kim the letter. "Kim, where can I contact you?"

"Right here," Kim told him. "Some things have happened that I shouldn't talk about but the Embassy has given us a place to stay for a couple of days."

"That will not do!" Cocoa shook his head vigorously. "I have already rented an entire floor in one of Berlin's finer hotels. However, with the travel ban in place, my guests will not make it. I insist that the two of you stay with me. My contact number is on the list, so just show up and ask for me. It's just down the street."

"Thanks, Mr. Banana," Kim smiled at him. "We'll try to take you up on your offer."

"Things are looking up," Ron remarked, as the teens turned away from the gate. Then they found their place in line and his opinion changed again.

Even though the line was long, the Embassy's staff proved efficient. Roughly forty-five minutes after saying farewell to Cocoa Banana, the teens found themselves speaking to one of the staffers. Minutes later, Cocoa's hotel and his list of models were entered into the Embassy's computer system. Shortly after this, Mr. Taylor reappeared to give the teens a ride to Cocoa's hotel.

"Wow," Ron muttered, staring at the large, ornate building.

"We're not exactly going to blend in, are we?" Kim added, acutely aware of their stained and disheveled mission wear. Already, several 'black tie and evening gown' attired patrons were looking curiously at the unkempt teens, who had just piled out of a spotless, luxury car.

"Nothing to do but go ahead," Ron shrugged.

The teens thanked Mr. Taylor, threw their bags over their shoulders and strode into the main lobby, drawing still more curious looks. The attendant at the front desk gave them a decidedly unfriendly stare, but at least the man understood English. When Kim gave him her name, he seemed more than a little skeptical. When she asked for Cocoa Banana and gave him the floor the fashion-fueled millionaire had rented, he became a great deal less skeptical. Apparently, Cocoa had kept his lodging arrangement secret, so anybody who knew he was in this building had to be 'in the know'. The attendant picked up a phone and soon knew that Miss Possible and her companion were, indeed, welcome on Mr. Banana's floor.

"Mr. Banana has personally asked that you be sent up right away," the attendant informed the redhead. "I shall summon a bellhop immediately."

"No thanks," Ron interrupted, shouldering both of the bags. "We made it across the ocean and across Europe on our own, we can make it the last few meters."

Kim, blushing furiously, scrambled to catch up with her companion. She managed to bite her tongue until they were alone in the elevator.

"Why did you have to act like that?" She demanded, since they were alone in the vertical vehicle.

"Like what?"

"Don't act innocent with me. You didn't have to be rude back there."

"I wasn't being any ruder…more rude…than he was," Ron insisted, shaking his head. "First of all, the moment a bellhop touches your bags, he thinks that he's entitled to a tip. Since communications are out, we're stuck with the money that we have in our pockets…for we don't know how long."

Kim's eyes flew wide, realizing the truth of what he had just said.

"Also, it's something that's always irritated me," he finished. "You make it across the country all on your own and this guy shows up to help you for the last few hundred feet. What's that about? Where was he when you were changing airlines or fixing a flat?"

"Ron, you realize that some people don't travel as mobile as us?"

"Sorry KP, I'm just ranting. I know that they're just doing their jobs and some people want or need their baggage handle for them. It just seems that I should have the option of asking to hire some help, rather than have someone assume I can't carry my own bags."

"Are you just about done ranting?"

"Are we just about at our floor?"

"Right here," Kim told him, as the door opened.

"Okay, I'm done ranting."

Kim gave her fiancé a fond smile before leading the way towards Cocoa's suite. She could hear the excitable man expressing his displeasure even before she reached the door.

"This is terrible!" He shrieked, as Kim attempted to knock on the door. The door wasn't latched and swung open as he continued. "I only have three models here and I cannot even contact the rest of my troupe! What? No, the local agencies do not have enough late teen to early twenty models available! Besides that, we're scheduled to do area stills the day after tomorrow and I do not have the established models I was counting upon! In fact, I don't know who will be available!"

"Mr. Banana?" Kim interrupted. "You told us you could give us a room for tonight."

"Oh! Excuse me!" Holding up a hand towards the teens, he addressed the phone again. "Work on it some more and I'll call you later." He hung up the phone before speaking to the redhead. "It will be my pleasure to provide you with a place to stay. Will a single suite do for you and your companion?"

"It would be wonderful. It sounds like you have problems…is it something we can help you with?"

"Perhaps," Cocoa told her, giving her and Ron a speculative look. "However, the two of you are dead on your feet. Let's get you settled in and we will discuss it tomorrow."

Kim was forced to agree. Cocoa led them to a large, ornate suite and explained that with his headlining models unable to make it to Berlin, the suite was theirs for at least several days. The fashion genius quickly excused himself, allowing the teens to settle in. Ron insisted that Kim take the master bedroom, which confused the redhead. She had fully intended to share a bed. Shrugging her shoulders, she dropped her bag in a corner and got ready for a shower.

The shower was roomy, making her wish that Ron was with her. However, she realized that she was simply too tired to go through with what such a shared shower would inevitably lead to. Still, it was a nice thing to think about while scrubbing off the grime accumulated through cross-oceanic travel, cross-continent travel, crime fighting and sitting in prison. Finished, she put on one of the hotel's robes and walked into the suite's main room. She wasn't surprised to discover Ron had already finished his own shower and had ordered them a light meal from room service.

"Still thinking with your stomach?" She teased him a little, although her own digestive tract was telling her that it was well past time that she had refueled.

"You know me," he replied. "I had to keep my mind occupied while waiting for you to finish."

"Hey!" She countered, taking a seat at the table. "You grow a head of hair like mine and we'll see how long it takes you to take care of it."

"Take all the time you need," he told her, now serious.

She gave him a warm look before turning her attention upon the meal he had provided. Years of field work had taught him what she liked. The two teens and one naked mole rat made short work of the meal. By then, it was quite late and three sets of eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Do you really want separate rooms?" She asked, around a yawn.

"We have to keep up appearances," he told her. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you…even though I'm too tired to…"

"I know," she smiled back. "Me too, but I'd like to have you with me."

Minutes later, the two teens and one naked mole rat were curled up in the large bed. Despite the strange room, Ron fell asleep almost immediately and Kim knew that she wasn't going to be far behind. Her last thought, before drifting off, was that wherever she was, as long as she was with him, she was home.

She spent the night with a large, contented smile on her face.

* * *

_A/N:_

_As always, I must thank my ever-patient beta, Joe Stoppinghem, for his tireless proofreading and suggestions. It was he who came up with the names for the Deputy Assistand Ambasador and the Embassy Guard. Also, my thanks to everyone for having the patience to overcome my very long delay since my last posting. I hope to keep a more frequent schedule for the remainder of my tale._

_I must also express my appreciation to everyone who has read and reviewed my tale. Thanks everyone and, until my next update, best wishes._

_daccu65_


	27. When the Monkey's away

Chapter 27: When the Monkey's Away

Kim realized a few things as soon as she woke up. First, she realized that she was in a strange room, but she quickly recalled the events that had led her to stay in the Berlin luxury suite. Secondly, she realized that Ron was still fast asleep, spooned up against her back. Finally, she realized that Rufus was also fast asleep, curled up in a small cave formed by Ron's hand and her stomach. Her smile she had awakened with grew wider at the thought.

While Rufus had been a part of Ron's life…and by extension hers…since middle school, she had never understood him as well as Ron did. While she could understand when Rufus shouted a name or a simple, single word, she couldn't understand his sentences. Ron, on the other hand, could get into complex discussions with the little guy, enough to report that he remained a curious mixture of small genius and typical rodent. While much of Rufus's mindset remained a mystery to Kim, she knew that he had always approved of her and her relationship with Ron. His current location, however, was solid proof that he completely accepted her role in Ron's life.

Kim suspected that Ron had become a sort of alternate colony for his small companion and while Rufus had always been friendly towards her, he had never really bonded with her…until now. She wormed a small finger under Ron's paw and fondly scratched Rufus's back, prompting a contented, rat-sigh.

"Careful," Ron's voice murmured into her ear. "Scratch a guy's back and he'll be yours forever."

"So why'd you wait until I already have you before telling me this secret?" She countered, sliding back a little deeper into his embrace.

"I wanted you to have a little bit of a challenge. You wouldn't really appreciate me if you got me that easily, would you?"

Kim just giggled a little bit before carefully sliding Rufus a little ways away so that she could roll over and wrap her arms around Ron. The two teens stayed that way for several minutes, simply nuzzling and caressing. The only problem with this was that after several minutes, Kim began to develop a strong urge to take the cuddle session to another level. She could tell that Ron was getting similar inclinations by the way his hands were starting to explore a little more boldly. Kim was just about to give in to her base drives when she opened her eyes for a moment and caught a glimpse of the alarm clock.

"Oh my!" She exclaimed, startling Ron out of his contented state and waking Rufus. Both males frantically searched the room, wondering what had shocked Kim.

"It's almost eleven o'clock," she gasped. "We've been asleep for over twelve hours!"

Rufus and Ron both rolled their eyes at this statement. Ron may be living a more active life these days but sleeping into the double digits was still nothing to get excited about.

"We needed the sleep," Ron told her. "Between complete exhaustion and jet-lag, it isn't really that surprising that you slept in."

"What do you mean, _I_ slept in?" Kim demanded. She was still feeling playful, but she wasn't about to let Ron get in an unchallenged dig.

"Just that I was awake about eight," Ron countered, with a bit of mock arrogance in his tone. "Long enough to realize that Cocoa had a bundle delivered for us. It looks like clothing."

"That's sweet but I wonder if it'll fit. He doesn't know our sizes."

"KP, that guy can probably take one glance at someone and know his measurements. You said last night that we weren't exactly fitting in with the other patrons. If we're wearing Club Banana, we'll be less obvious."

"That's true," Kim nodded. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You were worn out…we both were."

"Yeah, but now we're going to have to face the day. If you had woken me up at eight, we could have had a little fun. Instead, we're going to have to check in with the embassy. We might even need to go over there or to a police station."

"You mean no…"

"Time and place, Ron," Kim chided him, even though she was sorely tempted to make an exception. "But you were right. We both needed the rest."

"I'll order lunch," Ron told her, rolling out of bed. "By the way, the Kimmunicator is showing another incoming message and you have a message on the phone."

"Why didn't you answer them?"

"It's your Kimmunicator and Cocoa registered the room in your name. Let me know if either message has anything to do with me."

With that, the young blonde man scooped Rufus onto his shoulder and left the bedroom. Moments later, he was back, dropping off Kim's new clothing. He left again, closing the door behind him.

Kim decided that getting dressed could wait until she found out what was happening back home. She grabbed the Kimmunicator and sat down on the bed before keying the message.

"Hey guys," Wade's image addressed her. "I let your parents know that you're well and where you are staying. Communication between continents remains both limited and unpredictable, so we should continue to use recorded messages. Speaking of communication, when you record your next message, plug your hotel's handset cable into the Kimmunicator's side jack. The Kimmunicator will both search for available satellite bandwidth and an available, transatlantic phone line. Sure, hardwired lines are overwhelmed but you never know when one will open up. Anyway, enough about that."

"Transportation is even trickier," the young genius continued. "I'm afraid that most commercial aircraft are dependent upon the satellite GPS system for navigation. With the GPS system down, most transoceanic flights have been cancelled. The airlines are scrambling to install alternate navigation systems, but it will take time. Any sort of transportation I scare up for you is probably going to be inside a very uncomfortable military or cargo plane…unless you can wait at least a couple of days or are willing to hop a cargo ship."

"Finally, your family and friends are fine," Wade concluded. "Kim's father has been putting in some major overtime, since the Middleton Space Center is going to be instrumental in getting the communication and navigation systems working again. I hope to hear from you soon so you can let me know when you'll be ready to return home. Wade out."

Kim set the Kimmunicator aside and reached for the telephone, punching a lit button.

"Miss Possible," she recognized Deputy Assistant Taylor's voice. "Please call the Embassy at your earliest convenience. The German National Police are requesting additional statements from you and Mr. Stoppable. They are not charging you with any violations, but all parties have agreed that it would be best to conduct the interviews at the U.S. Embassy, to eliminate even the hint of coercion."

"Hey Ron!" She yelled. "The Embassy wants us to come down and make a statement. When will the food get here?"

"Twenty minutes," he called back.

"I'll call and tell them that we'll be there in two hours…if it works for them. Can you call Cocoa and thank him for the suite?"

"Already did it. He says it's ours for the rest of the week, if we want it. He also wants you to stop by and talk to him when you finish whatever business you have to deal with."

"Me? Didn't he mean us?"

"It's still Team _Possible_," she could almost hear him shrugging his shoulders. "Until we get back home, you're in charge."

Kim didn't know if she should be troubled or grateful that Ron had no ego when it came to her calling the shots. Instead of worrying, she decided to get ready for the day. She quickly brushed her hair before inspecting the clothing Cocoa had provided. She wasn't disappointed. Monique and Cocoa had the same attitude when it came to teenaged fashion…flattering rather than blatant. Once she had put on the clothing, she realized that the outfit was actually a little more conservative than her normal attire. This seemed strange for Club Banana until she recalled her current situation. She was about to pass through a posh hotel and meet with embassy staff and national police officers. Something a little more formal was definitely in order and Cocoa must have guessed as much. While she wasn't exactly dressed to blend with a black tie crowd, she wasn't about to draw stares from the high-brow afternoon crowd….at least because her wardrobe was inappropriate. The clothing was very stylish and all false modesty aside; she was a stunning young woman. Kim gave the mirror a last, appraising look before breezing into the suite's main room to eat. She quickly found herself in a staring contest with Ron.

Over the years, Monique had given Kim numerous fashion pointers. One of these pointers was that comfortable was hot. While anybody could throw one something posh or slinky and look impressive for a short time, really looking great all day meant being comfortable with what you were wearing. The second pointer was that a true fashion expert adjusted the wardrobe to match the client, while an amateur demanded the client adjust to match the wardrobe. Kim now saw solid proof that Monique followed Cocoa Banana's attitudes towards fashion.

Ron's body had adapted to the lifestyle he led. Instead of a buffed-up, muscular build, he had a lean, wiry look. His physic wasn't for show…it was put together to take him past, around or through any obstacle the world could put in front of him. Any attractiveness (and Kim liked his body) was a coincidence of form following function. Also, Ron didn't like to show off his body. Cocoa must have guessed as much and had provided the blonde with clothing that was snug enough to show off the fact that he was slender and athletic…but not so tight that it made Ron uncomfortable wearing it. Ron, who had been setting the table when she walked in, looked good and was perfectly comfortable…which made him hot. Kim's own looks, complimented by Cocoa's offerings, had a similar effect on Ron.

After a full minute, Rufus got tired of the mutual, silent admiration session, jumped onto the suite's table and started to chitter at the teens. While he liked the fact that his humans were infatuated with each other, he was hungry! Kim and Ron snapped out of the spell they had cast upon each other, sat down and started to dig in. Kim quickly threw her normal manners aside, realizing that she was absolutely famished.

"I hope we're not abusing Cocoa's hospitality," she commented, speaking around a mouthful of food. "This is a pretty big meal."

"I wouldn't worry," Ron shrugged. "He was expecting to feed a whole floor full of guests and only a couple of the suites are occupied. Besides that, we're practicing the Ron Stoppable method of frugality."

"Oh?" Kim asked, with a pointed look at the laden table in front of her.

"It's very simple. You just sleep through breakfast and only eat two meals a day."

"And then you eat three times as much for lunch than you would have, if you had eaten breakfast?" Kim prompted.

"So it isn't a perfect system," Ron protested. "I'm still working on it."

Kim simply smiled, shook her head and continued to eat. Soon, they finished and decided that they had plenty of time to walk to the Embassy, as opposed to hailing a cab. While the early spring air was a little chilly, the clothing Cocoa provided was functional and warm. Upon reaching the embassy, the guard quickly ushered them inside, where the teens met with Inspector Cluss and Deputy Assistant Ambassador Taylor.

The meeting proved to be cordial and efficient. Apparently, Global Justice had informed both officials that the secretive organization had an interest in both Bonnie and Will. Rather than trying to discover how Team Possible had tracked Bonnie to Dachau, they concentrated upon what Trudy's henchmen had said and done. After roughly an hour of questions and answers, the officials thanked the teens and let them leave. Kim turned down the Inspector's offer of a ride back to the hotel, preferring another walk. Soon, the teens were knocking on Cocoa's suite, intent upon finding out what sort of favor they could do for their emotional benefactor.

"Miss Possible!" He gushed, ushering the redhead into his suite. "And your companion! I'm so sorry that I can't recall your name! It's so good of you to stop by. There's a problem I have and I hope you can help me with it!"

"Sure, Mr. Banana," Kim replied. "What can we do for you?"

"I cannot get my models back for the show!" Cocoa wailed.

"I don't think we can help with that," Kim told him. "Transportation seems to be disrupted all over the world. Even we can't fix the world's navigation systems."

"Perhaps not, but the two of you are here right now," Cocoa informed them.

"You mean model?" Kim gasped.

"I can see how KP can help with that," Ron informed the designer. "But I'm not exactly model material."

"And we don't have the time," Kim pointed out. "Your next show's a little over a week away and our classes start before then."

"But I'm not asking you to perform runway work," Cocoa countered. "I'll be able to collect most of my models before the next show but I wanted to get some 'local flavor' shots."

"Let's just pretend that I don't know what those are," Ron told the man.

"They're photographs taken around the show's location," Kim answered. "They show models, wearing situation-appropriate clothes, at well-known landmarks"

"Exactly!" Cocoa gushed. "That is what I would like the two of you to do! I would like you to spend the next couple of days visiting some of the sights, while wearing some of my casual ensembles. Since I've already rented the luxury suites, you won't be costing me anything by staying in one! Certainly the airlines will be ready to handle more traffic in a few days and I will send you back home on a comfortable flight!"

"I don't know," Ron murmured. "KP has the look but I'm not exactly a head turner."

"Don't sell yourself short, young man. You cut a fine figure and this isn't a runway with the need for flawless skin, teeth and hair. You and Miss Possible are an engaged couple so you'll look good together. Please tell me you'll do this!"

"Well…" Kim mused. "I'm still wondering if we should be heading home."

"Hmmm…" Ron interrupted, scratching his chin theatrically. "We could probably get a hold of Wade, so he can set us up in some cold, cramped cargo hold. Then we could spend the next few days hanging out at home…or at the apartment, with Ms. Hatchett keeping an eye on us. On the other hand, we could spend the next few days catching the sights around Berlin and having some _privacy_ after the shoots. I wonder what we should do?"

"Well," Kim mused, realizing what Ron was suggesting. "If we're doing you a favor, maybe we could do an afternoon shoot today and see how it turns out."

"Excellent!" Cocoa shouted. "We'll visit the Berlin Zoological Garden! I have my photographer standing by. You'll have a great time and I'll get some great shots!"

* * *

Will Du stood at rigid attention outside of Dr. Director's office door. While he looked every inch a stern, composed Global Justice agent, he was emotionally quaking like a leaf. Back in Dachau, the hospital had released him to the custody of an Interpol Agent. This agent promptly whisked Du to a waiting, military transport and the watchful eyes of a couple of U.S. Air Force military policemen. Du managed to get a little sleep during the flight, even though the C-5's backwards-facing seats made him slightly nauseous. Dawn found him back in the U.S., where the U.S. Military turned him over to Global Justice.

Will had been a little shocked that his (former?) colleagues didn't put him in handcuffs. The two junior agents simple hustled him onto a hoverjet, flew him to GJ headquarters and marched him to the watch officer. This officer simply instructed him to put on his Class A uniform and report to Dr. Director, in her office. Du was stewing, worried about Bonnie, but he knew that he wouldn't receive any information until after he followed his orders. His only disobedient act was to take a quick shower before donning the uncomfortable attire. Now, he stood before Dr. Director's door, about to go in and meet his fate.

Global Justice was a young organization, so his was the first instance of mutiny it had experienced. As far as Du knew, there was no protocol for expelling a disgraced agent. With visions of an old western…where a disgraced soldier stood before his company as the commander tore the insignia off of his uniform…running through his mind, Du gave the door three hard, distinct blows.

"Enter." Dr. Director's voice instructed, through the closed door.

Determined to show proper etiquette and discipline during his career's last moments, Will kept his head straight and level as he opened the door and marched into the office. He closed the door behind him, strode to a point in front of, and centered upon, his superior's desk before returning to attention and saluting.

"Ma'am, Agent Du reporting as ordered," he declared, holding his salute.

Her face unreadable, Betty Director rose to her feet and returned the salute. Once she snapped her hand back to her side, Du dropped his hand and maintained his position of attention.

"Agent William Du," Global Justice's commander declared, in an icy voice. "You are guilty of insubordination. Because of your recent actions on Senior's Island and in Germany, the international criminal community is fully aware that you are a law enforcement agent. Global Justice has invested significant time and resources establishing you as an undercover agent. Due to your actions, Global Justice is now without its most valuable intelligence asset, hampering its efforts to monitor potential worldwide criminal conspiracies."

Du had no choice but to stand like a rock and absorb the reprimands. Dr. Director had not allowed him to stand at ease, an indication of just how upset she was.

"In addition," the stern woman continued. "You knowingly entered a sovereign nation, without permission, to execute your personal vendetta. The German government has every right to lodge a formal protest. Should that nation choose to do so, the consequences to Global Justice could be severe. Such actions, especially when performed by a high-ranking operative, demand swift and proportional disciplinary action.

Dr. Director stalked around her desk, planting herself directly in front of her subordinate before continuing, "therefore, in my capacity as organization commander, I am reducing you two grades of rank, with proportional pay cuts. This reduction is probationary in nature and will be rescinded after six months, assuming your actions and efforts justify such considerations. In addition, I am removing you from the espionage branch and assigning you, permanently, to the operations branch. You will receive a full briefing on your new duties at a later date. Agent William Du, do you fully understand this reprimand?"

"Ma'am…yes Ma'am!" Will answered. Although his face remained stern, Will was rejoicing inside. He had expected expulsion! Sure, he would have to work to regain his former status but he was sure he could do so. Now, if he could only find out something…anything…about Bonnie.

"Very well," Dr. Director continued, in the same, emotionless voice. You will now accompany me to the lecture hall, where we will conduct the proper, public ceremony."

Du's minor feeling of relief quickly vanished. His superior was about to reprimand him in front of a major assembly…clearly making an example of him. He quickly regained control of his emotions; he deserved as much, and fell into step behind Dr. Director. The petite woman quickly led him to one of the lecture hall's front doors, down by the stage, where another agent waited.

"The group is assembled," he informed her, snapping to attention.

"Very well, Agent Du, wait here and come in on my instructions."

"Yes ma'am," Du responded, once more at attention.

As Dr. Director strode through the door, the other agent stuck his head through the door and announced, "ladies and gentleman, the commander."

Although Will couldn't see the audience, the sound of a hall full of agents snapping to attention was unmistakable. Dr. Director strode briskly to a point just to the left of the stage's center and turned to face the assembled agents.

"Attention to orders," she commanded. "Agent Du, front and center."

Taking his cue, Will marched onto the stage. Upon reaching the center, he executed a left-face and stood at attention, looking out over his assembled colleagues.

"By order of the United Nations and Global Justice Command," another agent intoned. "While the specifics of this event remain confidential, Agent William Du has demonstrated meritous actions meeting and exceeding expectations and standards assigned to Global Justice Agents."

Will couldn't keep his eyes from bugging slightly. Was this some sort of setup to make his upcoming reprimand all the more painful?

"During this event," the narrator continued. "Agent William Du, despite personal danger and injury, demonstrated commendable valor. Although captured, Agent Du's quick, rational thinking not only allowed him to escape, but enabled him to report his situation to Global Justice Headquarters."

"_What's going on?"_ He thought, but the narrator's continued statement drew his attention.

"At this point, Agent Du willingly endured extreme danger and injury in the course of rescuing his partner. Agent Du's actions proved decisive in thwarting a worldwide extortion attempt. During a 48-hour period, Agent Du withstood capture, injury and danger, and willingly disregarded his career for his partner's benefit. For these reasons, Global Justice is honored to award Agent William Du the Homage Medal for valiant action as well as the Sacrifice Medal for sustaining injury in the execution of his duties."

Dr. Director stepped forward, bearing the aforementioned awards, and pinned them onto the stunned agent's chest.

"You did well, Will," she murmured to him, too quiet for anyone else to hear. "Someday, you'll understand why I had to punish you for defying my orders even as I commend you for your efforts. You did well but the fact that the benefits outweighed the costs was more luck than planning."

Dr. Director stepped back and snapped to attention, "Agent Du, you will now report to Briefing Room Three and receive your next assignment."

"Dr. Director," Du questioned, risking his superior's wrath. "What about Bonn…"

"_Report to Briefing Room Three, Agent Du!"_ Dr. Director's voice brooked no arguments or delays. Will snapped to attention, executed a crisp left face and marched off of the stage and into the corridor.

Once out of his superior's sight, he allowed a scowl to crawl onto his face as he rushed to the aforementioned location. Although he was desperate to find out more about his partner, he knew that demands weren't going to get him his information. Dr. Director would allow…or protect…such information depending upon her interpretation of the situation.

Not her agents' feelings.

Teeth grinding in frustration, Du reached his destination. A vaguely familiar voice instructed him to enter, in response to his knock. Will stepped inside and was shocked to see Dr. Drakken waiting for him.

"Ah, Agent Du," Drakken addressed the surprised agent. "I suppose I should offer congratulations for your awards. However, there is no time to waste, so please be seated. Your mission is to recover a special plant."

"Mr. Lipsky…" Du attempted to interrupt.

"I go by Agent Blue," Drakken informed him. "At least in a professional setting."

"Agent Blue," Will rolled his eyes. "I haven't heard anything about my partner and now I'm off on a simple, delivery boy mission?"

"Dr. Director said you'd be stubborn about this," Drew sighed. "So you might as well know that this particular plant is a rare orchid, the pollen from which will cure your partner."

"So Bonnie's going to be okay? Where is she?"

"If you _must_ know, Miss Rockwaller is currently being held in isolation. Her injuries are serious but she should recover from them…assuming you recover this orchid in a timely manner. "

"How long do I have?" Du looked ready to bolt from the room.

"It isn't a question of time, but of social contact," Drew informed him. "Every time she feels embarrassed, more of her body mass will be drawn into a border zone between dimensions. _That's_ why we have her isolated and _that's_ why we haven't been making too many inquiries towards her health. She might find such questions embarrassing…which will defeat the whole purpose of monitoring her status."

"Okay, exactly what am I looking for and where do I go?"

"Young man, I suggest you sit down, receive a proper briefing and save your questions for the end. You'll get you answers much faster that way."

"_You'll move faster by taking your time,"_ Du told himself, as he took a seat.

"These orchids' highest concentration is found here," Drakken began, pointing to a map. "In the Amazon's midrange. I've taken the liberty of loading the latitude and longitude into your aircraft's computer. While GPS navigation is still out, I've programmed the navigation computer to triangulate off of several radio transmitters. Here's a photo of the orchid and I've provided a DNA sampler. Simply find what you think is one of the orchids and put a leaf in the sampling device. If you get a green light, you have the correct plant. Other than that, we've equipped your aircraft with a standard agent's equipment kit and rations for three days."

The remainder of Dr. Drakken's briefing proved to be both complete and brief. Minutes later, Agent Du was back in his standard uniform, riding a hoverjet south, towards the Amazon Basin.

* * *

"We simply must review the pictures," Cocoa insisted, as he ushered Kim and Ron into his suite after a thoroughly enjoyable day at the zoo. "Don't worry, the photographer has already earmarked the best ones, so this won't take long at all."

Soon, the fashion expert had his guests sitting on a comfortable couch while he loaded the photos into his computer.

"What did you think?" Kim asked Ron, while their host was busy.

"It was a lot more fun that I thought it would be," Ron admitted.

"Same here. The photographers didn't ask us to pose or anything, they just followed us around as we went through the zoo."

"What do you think about staying here for a couple of days?"

"It sounds great to me," Kim smiled. "It'll save Wade the trouble of setting us up with a quick ride and it really is doing Cocoa a favor."

"Of course, it might mean some couple time for us, as well," Ron pointed out, in a very quiet voice.

"I'm really looking forward to that," Kim shot back, with a look that actually scared Ron just a little bit.

"Ah, here we are!" Cocoa exclaimed, calling a series of images up on the suite's large-screen television. Kim, Ron and Rufus settled in to review the photos, with Cocoa making comments about each one. Room service delivered dinner during the review.

"This was the best shot of the day!" Cocoa crowed, after perhaps an hour of reviewing, as he called an image up on his monitor. Kim couldn't help but smile when she saw it. They had visited the petting zoo at feeding time. With no children present, the zoo staff had allowed Kim and Ron to each bottle-feed a baby goat. The camera had caught a scene when both teens had broken out laughing at the goats' antics. While Kim was no fashion critic, she could see that this was a prime marketing photograph.

"So what did you think?" Cocoa almost pleaded. "Did the two of you enjoy yourselves? Wasn't today better than a cold, loud cargo hold back home?"

"Much better," Kim agreed.

"So can you stay for a few days?"

"We can stay tomorrow," Kim suggested. "We don't want to become a burden on you."

"You're no burden at all!" Cocoa insisted. "And I really could use some more footage."

"Okay, two days," Kim conceded. "Then we really have to get back home."

"Two days it is," Cocoa agreed. "I must contact the photographer and set up the best places to visit in the next two days." The eccentric clothing emperor ushered his guests out of his suite. "I will have more clothing delivered later tonight, after I find out where we will be taking you. Now, I am sorry, but I must get to work!"

Kim, Ron and Rufus suddenly found themselves standing in the hallway. The teens shrugged and returned to their suite. Kim quickly recorded a message on her Kimmunicator, explaining their intents and travel plans. Ron added a message to his parents before Kim plugged the device into the phone and activated the passive search feature.

"So, here we are, with no supervision," Ron quipped, slipping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Hey!" Rufus protested.

"No parental supervision," Ron quickly amended.

"No librarian's hyper sensitive ears," Kim murmured, leaning back into the embrace. "No listening to a talking car describing proper handling and service."

"No watching a love triangle between a robot, car and mechanical engineer unfold," Ron added. "No listening to erotic, binary confessions…just what were they saying, anyway?"

"Wade refused to say," Kim replied. "He just blushed and muttered something about a fuel pump. Still, I'd really like to purge that whole scene from my mind."

"I've got an idea," Ron's voice had become very husky.

"What would that be?" Kim's voice had become rather breathless.

Instead of saying anything, Ron simply scooped her up and carried her towards the bed.

"I like your idea of therapy," Kim sighed.

The teens never noticed when the Kimmunicator managed to transmit the recorded message.

* * *

"Thank you, young man. My husband and I will call you back with a message to send." Mrs. Stoppable hung up the phone and looked back to her daughter and guest. "Hanna," she gently chided the toddler. "Why do you put up such a fuss whenever Miss Go tries to give you a hug?"

"Her face is cold," the toddler pouted. Miss Go giggled and set her back on the floor.

"So let's put you down, so you can warm up," the teacher told the child. She then looked towards the Stoppable matriarch, "It was really nice of you and your husband to have me over for dinner."

"It's no trouble at all," the older woman countered. "In fact, you're doing us a favor. We had planned on feeding our son and he can really pack it away. I hope you're hungry. Otherwise, we'll have leftovers for a week."

"I suppose world saving burns off the calories," Miss Go chuckled. "Still, I was hoping to meet him again. Where is he, by the way?"

"He's in Germany, Berlin in fact."

"What's he doing over there?"

"One moment," Mrs. Stoppable held up a hand. "Dear!" She called up the stairs. "Dinner will be on in a moment!"

"Coming down," Mr. Stoppable's voice sounded from upstairs.

"He can't really tell me everything," Mrs. Stoppable continued, her voice a mixture of pride and sorrow. "I think it had something to do with that international agency that he and his fiancé help out at times."

"Global Justice?" Miss Go asked.

"That's the group!"

"Is Kim with him?"

"Yes she is. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious," Miss Go shrugged her shoulders. "I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be an adventurer. How long are they going to be over there?"

"Wade, the young man I was just speaking to, said that they will spend two more days in Germany before coming home. He's trying to arrange their transportation, even as we speak."

"I'd think that Global Justice would take care of that," Miss Go frowned slightly.

"I don't think they're working for Global Justice, just doing something that might affect Global Justice. Ron and Kim can be very tight-lipped about these things. Anyway, their mission is over and some fashion designer has put them up for a few days, while the transportation problems sort themselves out. I think it's sweet, they get to play tourist for a couple of days."

"So Global Justice isn't in contact with them?" Miss Go's face now looked a little calculating.

"I guess not," Mrs. Stoppable shrugged her shoulders. "With the communications problem, we can only send recorded messages back and forth. It's about seven o'clock here, so I guess it's three in the morning, tomorrow, where they are. I don't know when the kids recorded the message they sent to Wade."

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Miss Go scratched her chin. "Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable are in Germany, with no immediate means to return and you cannot even contact them immediately?"

"I guess you could look at it that way," Mrs. Stoppable was very confused. "Is this important in some way?"

"Yes," Miss Go answered, approaching the older woman. The teacher placed her hands upon her hostess's shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "I want you to know that I've very…very sorry about this."

"About wha…" Mrs. Stoppable was very confused but her question was cut short.

Miss Go flexed certain muscles within her torso…muscles she had constructed with electric eel DNA. An electric shock tore through her hostess, stopping her in mid-sentence. Mrs. Stoppable went completely limp, unable to control her muscles. Miss Go lowered her gently to the ground and Hanna started to shriek.

"Bad lady! Bad lady!" The little girl howled, which brought Gene Stoppable rushing down the stairs.

"What's going on here!" He demanded. "Dear, what's wrong…what happened?"

Miss Go had given herself hyper-strength when she designed her new body and she made use of it now. She simply backhanded the middle-aged man, which sent him sprawling into the far wall. Sheet rock crumbled under the impact and Gene flopped helplessly to the ground.

"Hanna…run," he managed to gasp out, as his vision faded to black.

"Daddy…mommy!" Hanna screamed, trying to rush to her father. Miss Go caught the running girl and hoisted her into the air.

"No…no…nonononono!" Hanna fought for all she was worth. She kicked, wriggled and even managed to tear out several hands full of Miss Go's long, dark hair. Unfortunately for the toddler, she was only a little girl. After a few minutes of struggle, the undercover villain managed to tuck the girl under one arm and cover her mouth. She pulled out her cell phone with her other hand.

"Call Avers," she instructed the device, as she struggled to restrain her captive.

"We cannot make the connection," a voice announced over the device. "Either the international link or a local connection is unavailable. For a nominal fee, we will attempt to reach this number and inform you when we do so. If you wish to make use of this service, press the one key. If you would like to send a voice message, press the two key."

Snarling with frustration, Miss Go managed to juggle both the phone and the girl and stab the two key with her thumb.

"Please say your message after the tone. After you are finished with your message, press the one key."

"Avers, seize your target immediately," Miss Go said into the device, once the tone sounded. She then punched the one key.

"We have recorded your message," the phone informed her. "And will continue to call the number you called. "We will inform you once the message reaches its destination."

Miss Go stuffed the phone into her pocket and secured Hanna with a firmer grip. After giving the two adults one last look, that mingled regret and triumph, she turned and bundled her captive out the front door.

Immobilized on the kitchen floor, Mrs. Stoppable could only watch, horrified, as her daughter was taken away.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for me to express my thanks. Earlier in this arc, I paired up Shego and Monkeyfist. Recently, I received a Fannie award for this alternate pairing. Thanks to everyone that voted for me._

_I'd also like to mention Screaming Pheonix, he's been in and out of hospitals for a couple of months now. Get better soon, my friend, I really miss you on the site._

_As always, my thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his beta skill and patience._

_Last but not least, my thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing my tale, keeping up my motivation to keep writing. Thanks everyone._

_Until I post again, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	28. Guilt

Chapter 28: Guilt

A vague, troubled feeling intruded upon Ron's peaceful sleep. The young, blonde man opened his eyes and examined his surroundings. In the room's dim light, he couldn't see anything amiss. Nothing moved through the shadows and nothing appeared to be out of place…but he still felt troubled. A slight whisper of motion to his right distracted him. Rufus, wearing a worried expression, crawled out of the cave he had made, earlier, between a spare set of pillows.

"You feel it to, buddy?" Ron whispered to his small friend.

"Uh-huh," Rufus squeaked, with a nod.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," the mole rat admitted.

This short conversation, as quiet as it had been, was still too loud. Ron's attention quickly snapped to his left side, where Kim, nestled into his shoulder, stirred slightly. Despite his troubled, uneasy feeling, Ron took a few moments to just look at her.

As was his usual habit when he had a chance to just look at her, he found himself wondering how a high school loser and underachiever could have ever hooked up with someone as special as her. Even now, with her hair seriously disheveled and none of her minimal cosmetics, she looked ready to grace any magazine cover. The blankets had slid down off of one of her shoulders, so he used his free hand to pull them up and tuck her in properly. She smiled a little wider and cuddled even closer to him.

Suddenly he tensed, his feeling of uncertain worry becoming much stronger. Rufus whimpered and tunneled under the blankets, clinging to his right hand. The activity woke Kim.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I, I don't know," Ron muttered. "It's like there's something wrong and we just don't know what it is."

"We?"

"Rufus and me. He feels it, too."

"Is it like the feelings you had when Amy was experimenting on the monkeys?" Kim asked.

"Yeah…but it's not the same," Ron struggled to describe what he felt. "It's like…eating a taco and eating a burrito…they have the same stuff but it's put together kind of different."

"I'll take your word for it," Kim shrugged. "Do you have any idea what's causing…"

Ron suddenly looked both horrified and enraged, shocking Kim to silence. For several, endless moments he ground his teeth in helpless, terrified anger. Finally, he gained control…somewhat…over his emotions and turned to Kim.

"Something very bad just happened at home."

* * *

During her career, DNAmy had dealt with all manner of difficult, unpleasant adversaries. Taking genetic samples from unwilling serpents, crocodilians, predatory cats and aggressive bovines had been both difficult and dangerous. Dealing with the criminal element, in order to secure supplies for her work, had also been complicated and hazardous. However, these trials faded into insignificance compared to trying to control this hyperactive toddler!

Hanna Stoppable was more than a handful. She shrieked like an angry monkey, bit like a wolf and kicked like a mule! After numerous bruises, cuts and clothing tears, Amy resorted to her backup plan. Months ago, when she decided to abduct the girl, Amy soundproofed her car's trunk. Although she didn't want to harm the child, she also didn't want to draw undue attention to herself. Hanna fought but she was a little girl and Amy was a super-powered villain. Soon the small Stoppable was secured and Amy was in the driver's seat, leaving the scene. Realizing that she couldn't go back to her own home, she drove to the rural property she had provided for Avers. Once at the secluded property, Amy was able to secure her captive in one of her holding pens.

Now that she didn't have to personally restrain the child, the villainess was able to relax in the lair's living quarters and formulate a plan of action. Her original plan was to abduct Hanna and instruct Avers to abduct either Shego or her child (depending on when the opportunity presented itself), simultaneously. After that, she and her minion would take their captives to yet another lab, outside of Go City. Amy hadn't used this lair yet, so it would remain secret and secure long enough for her to unlock the genetic secrets her captives carried. Unfortunately, she had acted before she realized just how much the damage to the world's communication systems could affect her.

She had already abducted Hanna, so there was no turning back. The problem remained that someone might…even though it was a stretch…conclude that Shego was in danger. If it took too long to give Avers the word to grab the hussy, Shego and Monty might flee or be waiting for the attack. Even worse, even if she managed to grab Shego, Global Justice might be alerted before Amy could secure the wench in her secret lab.

It all came down to speed. She had to get out of this city before the police figured out that she owned this property and started to look around. She had to give Avers his instructions before anybody figured out that Shego was in danger. Since she couldn't actually call Avers right now, she would have to go tell him. Fortunately, she had an aircraft hidden on this very property.

Unfortunately, she was no navigator or pilot. Amy counted on her preprogrammed navigation and flight systems to get her where she needed to go. Her problem was that the worldwide GPS system was down along with the communication systems. This left her with using airports' beacons and commercial radio stations to keep her on the correct route. This wasn't a good option, since it dictated a path over land, but she had no choice.

Heaving a sigh, the villain gathered maps and charts, plotted a course, and began the laborious job of inputting the information into her aircraft's navigation computer.

* * *

"Report!" Dr. Director's order, as she stormed into Global Justice Headquarters, gave the watch officer no doubt how serious her superior was.

"There has been a break-in at the Stoppable residence," the young officer informed the commander. "Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable have been taken to the Middleton Medical Center for treatment."

"What was the motive?"

"Unknown at this time," the watch officer flinched at her superior's glare. "The Middleton Police Department is investigating as we speak."

"What about the Stoppable daughter…Hanna?"

"The reports make no mention at this time."

"Very well," Dr. Director informed the younger woman. "I am heading to my office at this time. By the time I have my first cup of coffee warmed up, I want an investigative team assembled and standing by and whoever is investigating this incident, for the Middleton Police Department, on my phone. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Dr. Director."

Dr. Betty Director stalked through her office, picking up her coffee cup on the way, and into a break room. She poured herself a cup from a long-cold pot and set the cup in the microwave. The taste of the twice heated, thick brew made her cringe but she needed the caffeine. Forcing a swallow down her protesting throat, Dr. Director stalked back into her office, wondering if she should have grabbed a knife and fork for the coffee.

"Dr. Director?" The watch officer's voice sounded over her intercom, as soon as the commander re-entered her office. "The investigating officer's name is Officer Hubble. I'm ringing his cell phone as we speak."

"Patch it through to me," Dr. Director instructed. Moment's later, a telephone's ring sounded on the desk phone.

"By all the saints' mercy," a masculine, Irish-accented voice sounded over the speaker. "Could ye let me find out a wee bit more before ye hound me fer details?"

"Officer Hobble," Dr. Director answered, understanding the frustration the man must be experiencing. "I am Dr. Betty Director, commanding officer of Global Justice. I assume you've heard of my organization."

"Aye," the voice responded. "And I hope ye understand that I'm not needing yet another set of eyes starin' over me shoulder."

"That isn't the purpose of this call. I'm here to offer you Global Justice's resources to solve your case."

"Eh? Miss Director, the Middleton Police Department is hardly the size o' a major city's, but these are my citizens that have been hurt. 'Tis my duty to find who did the deed."

"I have no intention of getting into a turf war with you, officer," Betty assured the, no doubt, harried man. "I simply wish to offer my agency's resources and expertise. _We_ will report to _you_."

"And why would an international organization like Global Justice be fer lookin' into this issue? This isn't an international affair…unless ye be knowin' something that I don't."

"I know less that you do," Dr. Director assured him. "As to why I'm involving my agency, certainly you are aware that Kim Possible, and by extension Mr. Stoppable, occasionally assist my agency. As far as I'm concerned, that makes them my people, even if it isn't official. All debts must be repaid, Officer Hobble. If someone has harmed Mr. Stoppable, and that includes attacks upon his family, it is both my duty and my privilege to bring the full rage of Global Justice to bear. Since this is your jurisdiction, I can best respond to the situation by providing you with all the support I can muster."

"Then I'll be happy to accept your help…oh by Saint Patrick himself!"

"What?" Dr. Director demanded.

"Murphy!" She heard him shout to someone else. "Take Thompson and get over to the Possibles' house! Make sure everyone there is safe!"

"Sorry doctor," the police officer now addressed the Global Justice commander. "'Twasn't until just now that I realized an attack on the Stoppables might be involved with Miss Possible's work… and that might imply mischief against the Possibles. I've sent men to make sure the Possibles are well."

"I didn't think of that either," Betty admitted. "Officer Hobble, what can you tell me about this situation?"

"All I know is that a passer by saw the Stoppables' front door open and thought it a mite strange, being about eight at night. The lad looked inside and saw an ungodly mess and the mister, out cold, so he called the police. When we got here we found the mister and the missus, both unconscious. The mister took a nasty beating but the missus didn't have any obvious injuries. Both are at the medical center right now. We haven't been able to find hide nor hair of young Ronald or wee Hanna."

"I can tell you that Ronald is currently in Germany," Dr. Director informed him. "I'm troubled by Hanna being missing."

"As am I," the policeman agreed. "I'm hoping that she's scared and hiding here somewhere but I fear we're dealing with a kidnapping. We should learn more once the parents come to."

"Speaking of learning more, I'm prepared to offer assistance, right now," Betty told him. "The commander touched a button, which opened her office door to reveal a waiting agent. Betty motioned him inside.

"I have an investigation team ready at this time," Betty told Officer Hobble, while staring at her agent. The agent nodded, confirming that his team was prepared. "I am dispatching them, immediately, to the Stoppables' home in Middleton. They will report directly to you, Officer Hobble, and render all assistance they can possibly provide."

"I appreciate the help," Officer Hobble replied.

Dr. Director waved her agent out the door and continued. "With your permission, I would like to contact Mr. Wade Lode, Team Possible's technical support man. He will be able to contact Ron and he might have placed some monitoring devices on the Stoppable home."

"Aye, I should have thought of that. Right now, I'll take every scrap o' help I can."

"Very well, officer. One last thing," Betty provided him with a phone number and an extension. "That number will reach me, personally, at any time. Please contact me with anything you dig up or any additional requests you may have."

"Thank you, Dr. Director."

"Debts must be repaid," Dr. Director informed her counterpart. "And I owe Kim and Ron a great deal."

Dr. Director hung up her phone then buzzed the watch officer.

"Contact Agent Blue," she instructed the younger woman. "And have him report to me immediately."

"Dr. Director?" The watch officer questioned. "I understand that this is a criminal investigation. Is bringing in a former criminal a good idea?"

"It's the best idea!" Betty snapped. "Agent Blue will bring a criminal's perspective, as well as additional contacts, to bear. Now get him in here."

"Yes, Dr. Director," the officer replied. "Will there be anything else?"

"Yes," Betty answered, with a sour look at her half-full cup. "Contact a caterer to get some breakfast in here and make some fresh coffee. It's going to be a long day and we're going to have to brace ourselves."

Dr. Betty Director turned off the intercom line and dialed Wade Lode's phone number.

* * *

_What a difference a few hours can make._

Staring at a bulkhead, shivering in the cold, Kim could only dwell on the painful truth behind this thought. A few short hours ago, she had been cuddled up with Ron in a luxurious bed, her body still tingling from the pleasure she had exchanged with him. A few hours before _that_, she had been wearing the latest Club Banana fashions on a ramble through the Berlin Zoo, while photographers snapped photos of her and Ron. That was before Wade called them, using Global Justice's clout to claim a transatlantic channel, to give them the horrible news that Ron's family had been attacked and Hanna was missing.

The only ride Wade could arrange on such short notice was a little spare space in a cargo plane's hold. The heating system, such as it was, was designed to keep the cargo from freezing, not to keep people comfortable. The hold wasn't sound insulated, so the teens and the mole rat were wearing earplugs, which made conversation awkward. Also, there were no windows. When flying, Kim liked to be able to see the landscape passing beneath her…it gave her a sense of progress. Instead, pacing was the only practical activity available to make the time go by, and Ron was using up all the available space doing just that.

Kim didn't begrudge him the pacing space, since he had every reason to be more upset than she was. However, she suspected that something more was bothering the young man. Years of companionship had taught her to read his body language, so she knew that he was struggling to get a solid grip on something that was troubling him. She hoped that he would be able to do so quickly, so that they could deal with the problem. The sooner she got Ron to calm down, the sooner he would be ready to settle in next to her for the remainder of the flight.

She wasn't feeling romantic…far from it! Instead, the single blanket she carried in her mission gear wasn't enough to keep her comfortably warm in the cold cargo bay. Once Ron calmed down, the two would be able to share their blankets and body heat, getting them comfortable enough to nap. Kim was pretty sure that they were going to hit the Colorado ground at a dead run, so they had to catch what rest they could, now. Fortunately for her sanity, Ron stopped pacing and sat next to her, with a tentative expression on his face. Finally, he was ready to talk.

"KP?" He asked, shouting to be heard over the aircraft's noise. "What's happened to us…what's happened to me?"

"You're shook up about your 'rents and Hanna," she shouted back. "Being upset is no big."

"That's not what I mean. I'm wondering…maybe Rita Richards was right about us."

"What!" Kim demanded. "I am so not what that…woman…claimed!"

"You're not," Ron countered. "But I'm turning into what she said you were."

"That's completely flawed!" Kim snarled back at him. "You're the kindest, most giving person I've ever known."

"Am I?" The sheer self-loathing in his voice and expression silenced the redhead.

"Look what I did over this mission," he continued, with a self-directed snarl. "I tortured that lab technician…I broke his fingers to make him do what I wanted him to do. Since when have either of us done anything like that?"

"Since it was the only way to rescue Bonnie," Kim countered. "That machine was killing her and he refused to shut it down! What were you supposed to do, keep asking politely while it was killing Bonnie?"

"We've faced down take over the world schemes before. Heck, we've even faced 'destroy the world' schemes without doing…that. I didn't even think about it…I just did it. What does that say about me?"

"That you were desperate to save your friend's life and were willing to get rough with the guy who was killing her!" Kim grabbed him by the side of the face and forced him to look at her. "No, it isn't pretty and I wish that we didn't have to do it but even the German Police agree that you didn't have much choice." She looked deep into his eyes, making sure that he realized she was being completely sincere before finishing, "that's why they aren't filing any charges."

"That bothers me even more," Ron admitted. "That's what Rita was saying, that people were willing to look the other way because we're…I mean you're…famous."

"It wasn't being famous," Kim insisted. "Ron, you were the person there! You had to make a fast decision and nobody," she paused to emphasize her point. "_Nobody_ is blaming you for what you did! You aren't hiding behind my fame…you did the best you could…like you always do."

"Not always," Ron grumbled, barely audible over the plane's engines. Kim knew that she was close to what was _really_ bothering the young man.

"What do you mean?" Kim asked, as gently as she could over the roaring background noise. "When weren't you doing your best?"

"When I didn't want to go back home right away after the mission was finished."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Kim was decidedly confused.

"Two years ago…even last year, we wouldn't have lounged around a luxury suite for a couple of days," Ron told her, unable to meet her eyes. "We would have hopped the first transportation Wade could dig up, no matter how uncomfortable, and gotten back home. This time, we stayed in Berlin while someone broke into my home."

"Ron," Kim pleaded. "There was no way you could have known about that!"

"It doesn't matter," Ron shook his head. "The fact is that someone took advantage of us being gone…and we were gone because I wanted to spend a few days away from home so we could…"

"Whoa! Hold it right there!" Kim interrupted. "I was in on that decision, too. Do you think that I'm some…bimbo…who'll just follow any decision you make?"

"No! Of course not!"

"So you can't blame yourself. Ron, I wanted to spend a couple of days with you just as bad as you wanted to spend a couple of days with me. It isn't your fault…isn't our fault…that this happened."

"That's just it…it is! If I hadn't suggested that we spend a few days in Berlin, we would have been back home when this happened! I could have stopped it!"

"Are you sure?" Kim countered. "Ron, you're a scrapper but we don't know what happened. We don't know who or what did this! If you were there, you might be in the hospital, as well. Then you wouldn't be available to help deal with it!"

"You're just justifying the situation! You're just making up a story so I won't feel guilty when I should!"

"The hell I am!" Kim's temper was starting to flare and she struggled to control it. "I'm just saying that we had no way of knowing what was about to happen. We decided to take a few days off, after saving Bonnie and stopping a worldwide extortion attempt! Don't forget that Wade couldn't find us a quick ride back home, so we decided to stay put. Not jumping onto a messed up transportation network was hardly the wrong thing to do!"

"I don't know," now, Ron sounded weary beyond his years. "I just can't help but remember when the only thing we ever wanted in return for helping people was help to help the next person. We didn't need photo opportunities or nights in luxury suites, away from our 'rents. Somehow, I think that we let our beliefs slip…and my parents and Hanna are paying the price."

"We stayed in Europe to help Cocoa," Kim answered, much more calmly than before. "Plus, we're two adults who love each other very much and want to be together for a long time. Staying with each other wasn't wrong, you're not being punished for staying in Germany. We'll get to the bottom of this but we won't know anything until we get within Kimmunicator range of the continent. We just have to deal with things when we get there."

Ron nodded his agreement to the last remark, even though he wasn't convinced about his own innocence. The two teens tried to relax and prepare themselves for what was to come.

* * *

"Welcome to Global Justice Headquarters," Dr. Director welcomed her guest. "Although I wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances."

"Aye, I feel that way meself," the large policeman told his guest. "I've always wanted to see yer place…but I might not have been so eager if I knew how ye got in."

The big man was visibly trembling as he stepped out of the tube.

"Our vacuum tubes are rough on the nerves," the international agent admitted. "But they serve a purpose. The only people who ever return to our facility…after their first visit…are those who really want to come." Dr. Director offered a very brief smile, "you would not believe how many bureaucrats decide to forego inspecting and overseeing our activities after the first visit. However, back to the matter at hand, I've convened several resources, both in person and via communications links."

"Aye, and I appreciate yer efforts. The Middleton Police Department isn't a pack o' imbeciles, but we don't have your experience coordinat'n different agencies."

"I wished to speak to you about that," Dr. Director informed him, leading the way through her headquarters. "I would like to chair this upcoming meeting. I will defer to your judgement," she quickly assured the scowling policeman. "But, like you said, I have more experience coordinating various agencies than you do."

"Aye, that sounds reasonable," Hobble mused. "But I'll be keepen' a close eye on what's going on."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Dr. Director concluded, opening a conference room door for her guest.

"Gentleman," she addressed the group gathered around the table. "Let me introduce Officer Hobble, from the Middleton Police Department. He will be heading this investigation while I act as chair. Since most of you haven't met, let me conduct introductions. First, I would like to introduce Agents Smith and Smith, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"And what would the FBI be doin' here already?" Hobble demanded of the two men, who nodded in response to Dr. Director's introduction.

"Since the toddler, Hanna Stoppable, is missing, we are facing a potential kidnapping situation," Agent Smith answered.

"Until we prove that there has been no kidnapping, the FBI is obligated to investigate," the other Agent Smith added.

"But we will assist, not assume jurisdiction," the first agent concluded.

"I have also informed Mr. Wade Lode," Dr. Director continued, pointing to a monitor, where the youngster's face viewed the proceedings. "He has already contacted Ron Stoppable and will represent Team Possible for this meeting."

"Finally, I would like to introduce Agent Blue, from Global Justice," Dr. Director concluded, pointing to Drew Lipsky.

"Wait a wee moment!" Officer Hobble protested. "Aren't you the daft bugger what Miss Possible fought all the time?"

"Well, yes." The former Dr. Drakken grumbled.

"And why have you brought the likes of him on board?" The policeman demanded of his hostess.

"Agent Blue has extensive contacts within the international, technical-villain community," Dr. Director answered, in a no-nonsense voice. "The very group of individuals and organizations with a great deal of animosity towards Team Possible. Since we've concluded our introductions, I'll have Agent Blue report his findings."

"I wish I had something to report," Drew informed his audience. "I haven't been able to track any large financial transactions or other activities that might suggest a payoff for this attack."

"How about transportation or hideout requests?" Betty asked her subordinate.

"Nothing that I cannot assign to unrelated activities," Drew shrugged. "I'm continuing to make inquiries but so far, I have to conclude that this wasn't a hired kidnapping or hit."

"Very well, Drew," Dr. Director nodded at her agent. "Officer Hobble, now do you understand why I've brought in a criminal element?"

"Aye, 'twas something I had never thought about."

"My agency isn't under the same restrictions as the various, national organizations," Dr. Director explained. "However, Officer Hobble, perhaps you can tell us if you've come up with anything. Such information may give the other organizations something to work with."

"We've got a suspect," Officer Hobble told the assembly. "Shortly before I arrived, Mrs. Stoppable came to and told us that Miss Go, a teacher at the local high school, attacked the Stoppable adults and made off with the child. We contacted a judge and should have a warrant for her house and vehicles at any moment. Me officers and Dr. Director's investigation team are on the way to her home right now. They'll search the place as soon as the warrant's issued."

"Was there any genetic evidence at the Stoppables' residence?" The second Agent Smith asked. "If so, may be able to match it with samples taken from Go's residence."

"And what good will that do us tryin' to find wee Hanna?" Hobble demanded.

"Perhaps none," the first Agent Smith told the irate policeman. "But when we find her, this evidence will be instrumental in getting a conviction."

"We have to take a long-term look," the second Agent Smith continued. "I want to recover Miss Stoppable, but we also have to make sure we can punish whomever took her."

"Besides that, we need to confirm that the assailant actually was Miss Go," Dr. Director assured the officer. "It could have been someone disguised as Miss Go. If that's the case, we want to identify the perpetrator as soon as possible."

"That might be true," Officer Hobble admitted. "Accordin' to Mrs. Stoppable, Miss Go took her out with an electric shock an' punched Mr. Stoppable clear across the room. That's a lot o' power for a wee Miss like the teacher."

"Even a small woman can have a great deal of strength," Dr. Director informed her guest, with a warning growl in her voice.

"Aye, but an electric shock? This seems a mite odd to me."

"That's a good point," Dr. Director nodded. "Mr. Lode, I'm officially declaring all of Miss Go's accounts and other information fair game. If she turns out to be innocent, any violations of her privacy are my responsibility.

"I'm on it," Wade assured the chairwoman, his fingers already busy on the keyboard. "Also, could you forward any genetic samples you take, to me? I might be able to match the signatures with samples I've obtained from past foes."

"We'll forward the samples," Agent Smith told the boy. "In the meantime, perhaps Officer Hobble can provide recordings of Mrs. Stoppable's interview. There might be more clues to be gleaned."

"Aye, I have it right here," the policeman told the others. "Although I must warn ye' all, she's quite upset."

The assorted agents and others settled in to listen to some unpleasant words.

* * *

"Agent Smith….and Agent Smith," Kim gasped at seeing the two agents waiting at the general aviation section of Middleton's airport.

"Miss Possible," the first of the agents both greeted her and acknowledged her with the two words. "Could you and your companion…"

"Hey!" A shout sounded from Ron's pocket.

"My apologies…companions…accompany us?"

"Not until I check on my parents," Ron informed the men, with a cold voice. The teenager hopped out of the plane's hatch and turned around, so that Kim could drop their mission bags to him.

"I agree with Ron," Kim told the agents, as she dropped the first bag to her fiancé's waiting hands. "If you don't have a warrant for our arrest, you'll have to wait until after we see the Stoppables. Wade already has a ride waiting to take us to the Medical Center."

"We're the ride," the second agent informed the team.

"And we intend on taking you to the Medical Center," the other agent added, as Kim dropped the second bag.

"So why are two FBI agents acting as chauffeurs?" Kim asked, hopping out of the plane.

"We're not exactly Chauffeurs," the second said.

"We assumed that Team Possible would want to take an active role in solving this case," the first Agent Smith added.

"That's a no-brainer," Kim added.

"Which means that we can save time by briefing you on the way to the medical center," the second agent told them.

Neither Kim, Ron nor Rufus could argue with the logic, so after thanking their ride, they climbed into the nondescript car with the two agents. It didn't take long for the three members of Team Possible to receive a severe shock.

"Miss Go?" They said/squeaked in unison.

* * *

"Officer Hobble?" Wade's image appeared on the monitor in the Global Justice conference room. "I think I have something."

"What?" The policeman demanded. The combined investigative team had found Miss Go's home deserted and everyone was on edge, hoping that the young genius could sort through the files and papers they had removed.

"It appears that Miss Go has been receiving…and distributing…a great deal of wealth through a complicated maze of accounts and companies. I'm still unraveling things but I've figured out that she owns an isolated ranch outside of Middleton."

"Give me the address," the policeman instructed the youngster. "I'll submit it to the judge for a warrant."

"I've already forwarded the address to the judge," Wade answered. "As well as the work I've done to establish Miss Go's ownership. She should either sign or deny the warrant in a few minutes. I've also…acquired…some time from a reconnaissance satellite passing overhead. The ranch appears to be deserted now, but there's fresh tire tracks in the driveway."

"Fine work, Mr. Lode," the police officer congratulated the youngster. "I'll be sendin' me officers out there immediately. Dr. Director, would you be so kind as to send one o' your investigative teams with them?"

"Of course," Dr. Director told him. "Do you want to have Kim and Ron with them?"

"Nay," the large man answered, with both a shake of his head and a frown. "If the worst has happened, I don't want young Ronald to be the one to discover it."

"A wise decision," Betty nodded. "Anything else, Mr. Lode?"

"Nothing. My DNA profile should be complete in another hour or so. Until then, I'll keep digging through the financial transactions."

* * *

"Mmmmmom? Dad?" Ron whispered nervously into the hospital room. While his relationship with his parents had been distant at times, he had never been nervous about seeing them before now.

"Ronnie?" His mother's voice sounded wearily from behind a drawn curtain. "Is that you? Are you well?"

"Yeah mom, I'm fine," he choked out, entering the room and passing around the curtain. The sight in front of him almost forced him to his knees.

Jean Stoppable looked fine, other than having her face drawn and haggard with worry. Gene Stoppable, on the other hand, looked horrible. His torso and head were swathed in bandages and a breathing tube prevented him from speaking. Ron suddenly didn't know what to do. He had been so desperate to see his parents that he hadn't bothered getting a full briefing from the staff. He knew that his father was badly injured but he didn't know the full extent.

"Dear, Ronnie's here," Jean told her husband, squeezing his hand. Gene's eyes remained unfocused but he turned slightly towards his son and heaved his other hand into the air. Ron rushed forward and caught it.

"Dad….mom…I'm so sorry," he sobbed, finally letting the tears flow.

Jean Stoppable got to her feet, reached across her husband and placed a hand on her son's shoulder. For several minutes, the teenager cried, letting the guilt and fear flow. Finally, he regained some control over himself.

"Why are you sorry, Ronnie?" His mother asked.

"For not being there," he blubbered. "For enjoying myself in Berlin when I should have come home. For not being there wh…"

"That's enough," Jean gave his shoulder a small shake, to get his attention. "It wasn't your fault and we can't worry about it. You can't waste time or effort, what's important is finding Hanna." The Stoppable matriarch's composure fell when she mentioned her daughter, but she gamely continued. "I don't think the police believed me when I told them what happened."

"They don't believe that Miss Go took her?" Ron gasped.

"No, they believe that. I don't think they believe me when I tell them how she did it. She hit me with something like an electric shock, then punched your father across the room and almost through the wall! You'd think that with his injuries…his concussion, broken ribs and internal injuries, they'd believe it but I don't think they do."

"I believe you, mom," Ron assured her. "And I'll call in every favor, do everything I can to get her back."

"I know Ronnie," Jean assured her son. "I want her back so bad…I'm so worried…but Miss Go was so strong. Ronnie, be careful when you find her! I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, mom," Ron assured her in a quiet, calm voice. "But please, tell me everything that you can. I know that you've already told the police everything but I need to hear it from you."

Hesitantly and clinging to her husband's hand for support, Jean Stoppable recounted, once again, the worst day of her life.

* * *

"I'm not pulling rank and letting you in there," Dr. Anne Possible informed her daughter. "The Stoppables are in a secure room and only family members are allowed inside. You're not family…at least not yet."

"But Ron's feeling so guilty," Kim protested. "If his mother complains about him not being there…I don't know what it could do to him."

"You'll just have to wait until he comes out," the older redhead sighed, looking around her office. "Even if I wanted to get you in, I can't. I'm not the Stoppables' general practitioner and I'm not on the team treating them. I have no business attending to them and, as far as the authorities are concerned, the fewer people with access to them, the better."

"I understand that Ronald feels guilty," Dr. Possible continued, in a kindlier tone. "It's only natural, in times like these. It actually says a great deal about his character that he takes his family's safety seriously."

"His character is giving him some problems right now," Kim muttered.

"He feels guilty about not returning home as soon as he could?" The doctor asked.

"Yes," Kim replied. "We deliberately decided to stay a few days in Europe. Sure, Wade told us that finding transportation would be rough but we didn't even have him try."

"That doesn't sound that bad. There was nothing pressing at home, so why bother rushing back?"

"That's what I tried to tell him. The only thing is…there were other things about not coming home right away that has him feeling bad."

"What things?" Anne took a quick look out of her office door. While she wasn't an administrator, she was a respected neurosurgeon. As such, she rated an office with an inner area and a waiting room. Although her inner office door was open, the outer, waiting room door was shut. She and Kim would have privacy for what she was beginning to suspect was going to be a very private conversation.

"Well…" Kim began while not quite meeting Anne's eyes. "For one thing, it was a really nice room Cocoa gave us. He's sort of feeling guilty that we spent the time in luxury, rather than taking an uncomfortable ride."

"I understand why he feels bad about that," Anne told her daughter. "Neither of you _should_ feel guilty about it…but it's understandable to try to project guilt on your actions." Anne frowned slightly, "but I noticed that you said _room_ rather than _suite_. Does that have something to do with the guilt."

"Yeah," Kim's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Ron and I…well…we…"

"You've become intimate," Anne supplied, rescuing her daughter from her own inability to come out and state the fact."

"Yeah," Kim still wasn't able to meet her mother's eyes.

"That mission, back over Christmas?"

Now, Kim snapped her head up to look, shocked, right at her mother.

"It wasn't _that_ long ago that I was your age," Anne pointed out. "I didn't know…but I had my suspicions. Anyway, I take it that the two of you decided to spend some 'alone time' and Ron's feeling guilty about it right now."

"It's part of it," Kim admitted. "Mom, Ron's thinking that he's turning into what Rita Richards claimed that I was. He thinks he's turning into some sort of debutante…using our fame to gain preferential treatment."

"That's ridiculous! The two of you were in Europe on a rescue mission, with no thought of a reward!"

"I tried to tell him that," Kim sighed. "But he isn't being very reasonable. We didn't even ask Cocoa to give us the suite…he had already rented them and they were sitting empty. Cocoa even asked us to stay for a few days, as a favor to him. It wasn't as if we had responsibilities back here we were neglecting."

"But right now, he won't listen to reason," Anne interrupted. "He's fixated upon the fact that the two of you decided to spend a few days in a luxurious suite, at someone else's expense, making love while Miss Go attacked his parents and kidnapped his sister."

"That's it! We weren't demanding these perks…they sort of fell into our laps and it seemed like we were actually doing the right thing by taking them."

"Kim, neither of you have anything to feel guilty about but Ron's not thinking logically right now. Right now, the important thing is to recover Hanna as soon as you can. Once Hanna's safe, the two of you are going to have to have a sit down and talk over this misplaced guilt."

"I'm kind of surprised you're not getting after me for…"

"If you remember, I gave you the green light…so to speak…when you left for college. Judging by the fact that the tabloids aren't trumpeting what you're up to, I have to say that you're handling this new aspect in an adult manner. We'll talk a little bit…later…but this isn't the time to let anything distract you from supporting Ron. He's going to need you close by until you get Hanna back, and if you get involved in the case, you might need to keep him from doing something he'll regret, later."

Kim's Kimmunicator sounded a ring tone, interrupting the conversation.

"That's Ron's tone," Kim told her mother, digging the device out of her pocket. "Hey Ron," she answered. "How are your 'rents doing?"

"Mom's fine," Ron answered, in a clearly choked up voice. "But dad's hurting bad. The docs say that he'll make a full recovery but…well…it's bad."

"I know," Kim replied. "I don't have the details but I have a rough idea."

"That's not the worst part."

"What? What's the worst?"

"Miss Go was waiting for me to be away," Ron sobbed. "Mom told me everything. She said that once Miss Go found out that I was in Germany, and wouldn't be able to get back quick, she made her move."

"Oh, Ron…"

"So you see, it is my fault that Hanna's gone. If I hadn't suggested we spend a few days in Europe, this wouldn't have happened. Miss Go would have found out that we were on our way back and she wouldn't have done anything."

"Ronald!" Anne snapped, grabbing the Kimmunicator. "This attitude is not helping! You need to get your head clear and your emotions in check. This is not your fault but this isn't the time to discuss the issue. Now, visiting hours are over and your parents need to rest. Please come down to my office and meet with Kim. Since your home is a crime scene, you'll be staying with us. Once you get here, I want the two of you to go home, get a hot meal, and rest up. Once Wade, Global Justice or the FBI track down some clues, you're going to be on the move again. I'll work with my colleagues to keep your parents informed."

"Okay, but I'm the reason…"

"No! Enough of this! Come to my office right now!"

"Yes Ma'am."

Anne looked at her daughter, "I'll tell your brothers to tone down the antics. The two of you don't need them at their worst right now."

"What about dad? If he starts asking some questions, Ron's going to get upset again."

"I don't think your father's going to be a problem. He's putting in some long hours at the space center, working to repair the satellites that that Dementor girl damaged. Drag Ron home, get some hot food in him and get ready to do what the two of you do best…take down the bad guy."

The two redheads in the inner office didn't see the middle-aged man slip quietly out of the outer office. Dr. Anne Possible had been exactly right; her husband was putting in unbelievable amounts of time at his job, trying to get the world's satellite communication network back on line. However, he was also very concerned about his friends, the Stoppables, so when a chore took him near the medical center, he dropped in to ask his wife if she had heard anything. While Dr. James Possible wasn't given to eavesdropping, he managed to walk in to his wife's outer office just in time to hear his wife and daughter talk about the younger woman's evolving relationship with Ronald. At that point, it seemed inappropriate to let them know that he had overheard.

Once outside his wife's office, James considered what he should do as he left the office area. His wife had been very wise; this wasn't the time to confront his daughter and prospective son-in-law about what had happened. However, something needed to be done about the fact that they had…evolved their relationship…and Kim was suffering because of it.

Once Hanna was safely back at home, it was going to be time for a James to Ron talk.

* * *

_A/N:_

_I must apologise. I had thought that the next chapter was going to be my last, but it proved long enough to stretch into two. I'm afraid you're just going to have to put up with a little more reading._

_Seriously though, the encouragement you've given me has been most appreciated. It took me awhile to get writing again, and I'm truly thankful that so many have kept their patience with me. Thanks everyone._

_Thanks yet again to Joe Stoppinghem for staying the course as a beta reader._

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	29. Investigation

Chapter 29: Investigation

"Me officers have just reported," Officer Hobble told the others in the conference room. "They found Miss Go's vehicle but found neither hide nor hair o' the teacher or wee Hanna. We'll be needin' to bring the dogs out to confirm it, but Miss Go's already left."

"What now?" Dr. Director asked the assembled group.

"I've just come up with a couple of items," Wade informed everyone, from his monitor. "First, I've completed my analysis of the hair samples recovered from the Stoppables' residence. While the DNA has been extensively modified, there's no doubt…Miss Go is DNAmy."

"What!" Drew demanded. "A few months ago she was a behemoth!"

"And a few months before that, she was a short, chubby geneticist," Wade countered. "I can send you my data if you want to review it but I'm telling you that DNAmy has started to modify her body…at will…to support whatever she wants to do."

"Could this explain why she was able to shock Mrs. Stoppable, or overpower Mr. Stoppable?" Officer Hobble asked the young genius.

"It's possible," Wade nodded. "For one thing, I've found some piscine DNA spliced into the DNA structure. I'll have to look into it some more, but if this DNA matches that of shocking fishes, it might give her the ability to generate electric shocks." He frowned for a moment, "but it doesn't explain the other modifications."

"What would those be?" Dr. Director added.

"There's also some simian genetics in the mix," Wade reported. "Which might explain her extreme strength. On the other hand, there's also some reptile DNA mixed in, as well. What she's gained from this last addition…I can't even guess."

"You've already done quite well, young man," Officer Hobble told him. "But ye' said that you had a couple of items to tell us. While Miss Go's identity throws us a curve, it doesn't tell us where to look next. I'm hopin' that yer other information give us a path to follow."

"That it does. I've unraveled most of Miss Go…er DNAmy's financial cover. It looks like she has been pulling a great deal of income from the Seattle area. I've done some more digging and I've identified a probable location for the income's source…as well as two individuals who are most likely her most valued employees."

"That's getting results!" Officer Hobble congratulated the boy.

"Forward the information to our account," the first Agent Smith requested.

"And we'll arrange for warrants," the second agent finished. "With any luck, we'll recover the child shortly."

"I don't think it's as easy as that," Drakken protested. "I don't think Amy will work that way. Amy isn't interested in money…except as a means to purchase things to fund her research. Her Seattle operation is her cash source. Whatever she's up to, I'm sure she's going somewhere else to do it."

"So yer sayin' we shouldn't break down her Seattle operation?" Hobble demanded.

"Not at all! Her employees might know where she's heading, halting her moneymaking will hamper whatever she's up to and we may glean additional clues to her whereabouts. I'm just saying that we shouldn't get our hopes up that she's on her way to Seattle."

"I don't want to get Ron's hopes up for no reason," Wade told the group. "I have an idea, why don't we have Team Possible conduct an additional investigation at the ranch?"

"Don't you trust the combined expertise of Global Justice, the FBI and the Middleton Police Department?" Dr. Director sounded more amused than offended.

"Of course, but none of you have all of the analytic capacity I've built into the Kimmunicators I've given Kim and Ron," Wade replied. "And linked directly to my network, I might add. Besides that, Kim and Ron are probably going crazy with worry. Giving them a task will keep them busy while we check out Amy's assets in Seattle."

"I can't think of a better plan, me self," Hobble told his companions.

"In that case, I'll get them on the way."

* * *

Kim was feeling a little nervous as she opened the garage door. For one thing, the tweebs were in there, working on something, which made caution when entering the structure a wise thing. For another thing, Ron was with them and Kim was feeling more than a little edgy about her fiancé.

Kim sighed, yet again. While she knew that she wasn't as upset about Hanna being missing as Ron was, she was still very worried about the little girl. Last night, she had suggested that the two of them catch a nap, together, on the couch, only to have Ron dismiss the idea. Kim had come very close to losing her temper at that time. Whenever she was upset, Ron was ready to offer his support and comfort. Why couldn't he accept the same from her, when he was in duress? Kim could only guess that his mind just wouldn't let go of the notion that Hanna was missing because he had taken some time off to enjoy himself. Remembering to keep her temper in check, no matter what, she opened the door.

"Letting out the shoulders did the trick," Ron's voice announced, from where he was doing some simple katas while the tweebs were watching him. "It isn't binding me at all."

"Time for a field test," Tim announced, grabbing the leads of his father's arc welder.

"Charged!" Jim shouted, looking at some incomprehensible meters on the appliance.

To Kim's horror, her younger brother stepped forward and slapped the welder's leads into Ron's hands. The garage lights dimmed and Ron grimaced in pain…

…but only for a moment! The lights returned to their normal illumination while Ron looked at his palms, slightly puzzled and the tweebs exchanged a high five.

"Both the conductivity and the insulation are twice what we were aiming for," Jim declared.

"Alright, you three," Kim snarled at the assembled males.

"Hey!" A shout of protest sounded behind her.

"Alright, the four of you. Is this some gorchy self-torture thing? Are you trying to electrocute yourself because Amy shocked your mom?"

"No," Ron told her, looking a little smug.

"We're getting him ready," Tim added.

"How? By teaching him what electrocution feels like?"

"Ron's body absorbed less than two percent of the welder's wattage," Jim informed her, with a self-satisfied smile. "When we found out that Miss Go…I mean Amy, made use of electric shocks, Ron asked us if we could come up with something."

"Simplicity in itself," Tim waved negligently. "Electricity harms a body by flowing through the tissues, so we just give it another path."

"As well as shield the body," Jim added.

"I was getting to that!" Tim protested. "Anyway, we altered Ron's mission wear by saturating the material with insulating chemicals. Then we altered an oversized set with conductive materials, for him to wear over the top of the first set."

"A one-two punch," Jim concluded. "Give the electricity an alternate path while shielding the body and even an arc welder can't deliver a dangerous shock. If Amy tries to shock Ron out, she'll be the one who winds up getting surprised."

"The only challenge was altering the mission gear so it doesn't restrict his movements," Tim informed her. " Once we took care of that, the rest was easy. We can prep a set of mission wear for you, as well."

"Do it," she ordered. Then she turned to her fiancé, "Ron, did you get any sleep?"

"Not really. Since I couldn't sleep I meditated for awhile, then decided that I might as well try to get ready."

"You can get ready best by resting for what's coming up!" Kim informed him, curtly.

"I _said_ that I couldn't sleep," Ron reminded her.

Fortunately for everyone in the garage, Kim's Kimmunicator sounded, interrupting her retort.

"Go, Wade," she answered.

"We discovered that Amy owns a ranch outside of town," Wade told the team. "And her car is still there."

"Hanna?" Ron demanded, hope coming into his voice.

"She's not there. The police, Global Justice and the FBI have already checked it out. However, they didn't have Kimmunicators and I'd like to have the two of you to perform some additional tests."

"What will that accomplish?" Ron demanded. He was clearly upset by Hanna not being there.

"I have samples of Hanna's DNA," Wade told the distraught teen. "The Kimmunicators will be able to scan for it and confirm that Amy actually took Hanna there. I'm trying to trace Amy's path."

"That makes sense to me," Ron mused. "When do we go?"

"I'll have your ride there in about ten minutes."

"Is there anything we can do?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, we feel really bad," Tim added. "We thought Miss Go was a great teacher, she gave us physics assignments."

"Aren't you two a little young to have to do physics assignments?" Ron asked.

"We don't _**hav**__e_ to do physics assignments," Tim replied.

"We _**get**_ to do physics assignments," Jim concluded. "She gave us an assignment to track down an emitting radiation source."

"Yeah," Tim added. "The source changed frequencies and changed locations. We finally tracked it down to the Huehuetenango area in Guatemala."

"Modifying a set of my mission gear to resist her shocks will be enough," Kim told her brothers. "Other than that, stay out of it. If you see her, run your legs off, we don't need another kidnapping."

"Good thought," Ron told her. "Let's see if we can find anything out at the ranch."

* * *

"Agents out of our Seattle office have arrested two of Amy's accomplices," Agent Smith informed the assembly. "They were more technicians than criminals and the thought of having the…nightmare…we discovered pinned onto them prompted them to talk."

"What sort of nightmare?" Betty asked, concerned at what would have a couple of experienced FBI agents this upset.

"DNAmy had set up a drug production and distribution lab," the second smith informed everyone present. "She intimidated local gangs into distributing the product and as for production…she…" the agent gave a very pointed look towards Wade's image on the monitor. "Perhaps we shouldn't say it in front of everyone."

"Ron's my friend," Wade countered. "And if this has something to do with Hanna, I want to know."

"I agree," Dr. Director intervened. "Mr. Lode needs to know even the most horrific details."

"Very well," the first Agent Smith conceded. "DNAmy has placed several dozen people into chemically induced comas and is utilizing their bodies to produce narcotics."

"According to the technicians we caught, they use gene-splicing to promote certain hormone production," the second agent continued, in a very subdued voice. "Which they then distribute as narcotics. Apparently, each person can produce the hormones for somewhere between thirty and sixty days. After the body wears out, they incinerate it and find a new subject."

"Oh dear God!" Wade gasped. "That's what Amy's going to do to Hanna?"

"I doubt it," Drakken interrupted. "Young man, you aren't thinking like a criminal. For something like this travesty, you use people who the public either expects to, or won't notice, vanishing. I'm willing to bet that the poor souls are either criminals, homeless, or both."

"He's right," the first agent agreed. "According to the technicians, Amy hasn't actually been in Seattle for months. Also, she hasn't told them that she's about to arrive. Wherever Amy is taking, or has already taken Hanna, it isn't that lab."

"So where does that leave us, now?" Wade asked. "Where do we look next?"

"The technicians are talking with their lawyers, " the second agent told him. "With Officer Hobble's permission, our agents will cut a deal. According to the techs, they have information that we'll find very useful."

"Ye've got me go-ahead," the policeman said. "These additional crimes are outside o' me jurisdiction. I just want to find the wee lass."

"In that case, we might have additional information within minutes. Of course, I can't guarantee that it will lead to Hanna. We'll be best served by trying to uncover additional leads."

"Okay," Wade sighed. "I'll continue to uncover Amy's financial network. Maybe I can dig up another lead."

"Drew, what's on your mind?" Dr. Director asked her subordinate. "I can almost see the gears spinning in your head."

"I don't really know…not yet," the blue scientist answered. "But I think we're all missing something. Amy took a huge risk to abduct Hanna…but left the Stoppables alive to report it. She must think that there's something very special about that little girl and since we're dealing with Amy, it must be on a genetic level."

"But the wee tot's adopted and no one's the wiser towards her parents," Officer Hobble protested. "How does that help us?"

"It doesn't…at least not yet," Drew admitted. "Once I figure out why Amy grabbed the girl, we'll be a lot closer to finding out where they are."

* * *

"Well, that about does it," Kim told Wade. "We've swept the compound and Amy's car. We've got traces of Hanna's DNA here and it seems to be concentrated in Amy's trunk and in one of the holding pens. I guess that means that Amy carried Hanna out here in her trunk, confined her in the pen, then left sometime later."

"That's a good guess," Wade replied.

"Have you come up with anything on those weird feathers we found?"

"Not yet," Wade shrugged his shoulders. "My DNA analysis takes some time. The only thing I can say right now is what you already know; that they seem a strange mixture of feather and fur. Anyway, I'd like you to head over to the garage. The police and FBI said that there were some scorch marks on the floor and I'd like to see if they're chemically consistent with jet or rocket exhaust. If they are, we'll know how she left."

"I'm on it, Wade," Kim answered wearily. The fact that they hadn't found any solid clues was affecting Kim a great deal. She trudged out of the large building and across the open expanse to the garage. Just outside the building, she found Ron staring into Amy's open trunk. As she approached, she saw tears flowing from his eyes. Wordlessly, she placed a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"I know she was in this trunk," Ron sobbed. "The scanner found the DNA…probably from skin and hair cells but these dents really get to me."

"Dents?" Kim asked.

"These dents," he answered, pointing at the inside of the trunk cover. Sure enough, Kim spotted a multitude of small dents in insulating material under the thin metal.

"She fought," Ron sobbed. "She kicked and punched at her cage. She probably screamed and cried for help…but nobody came."

"I know," Kim whispered back. She gently turned him away from the car and into the garage, "Wade wants us to scan the residue in the garage."

"What good will it do?" Ron demanded. His voice was thick with misery.

"With Wade, who knows? He can dig up luck from the most unlikely places." Kim did her best to sound optimistic. It did a little good, prompting Ron to trudge into the aforementioned building and focus his own Kimmunicator's beam on some of the black, sooty markings.

"We're scanning, Wade," Kim reported. "What can you tell us?"

"Wait just a minute!" Kim and Ron both perked up at the sudden excitement in their young friend's voice. "I think we're on to something!"

* * *

"The technicians' lawyers and the investigative agents have reached a deal!" Agent Smith announced, while staring at his PDA. "They're ready to give us additional information."

"I'm instructing the agents on site to feed video directly to us," the second Smith added.

In response, a monitor on the wall suddenly came to life and showed a horrific scene. Two men in lab coats, accompanied by two men in suits, led another man in a suit through a warehouse full of full life support beds.

"To whomever may be listening," one of the suit-wearing men spoke to the camera. "I am the court appointed attorney for this man here." He gestured towards one of the men in a lab coat. "I want everyone to understand that my client, his companion and his companion's lawyer have made a deal with this FBI agent. My client is fulfilling his part of the bargain by uncovering evidence beneficial to the bureau. Perhaps introductions are in order."

"Those must be the poor souls providing the hormone drugs," Officer Hobble muttered, nodding at the life support beds while the lawyer introduced everyone visible on the monitor. "Tis a nightmare indeed."

"Okay, now that we've all 'fessed up," one of the technicians told the camera. "I'll show you what Bigfoot was really up to."

With this, the man reached under a control console and pressed a hidden button. A section of wall slid upwards, revealing a hidden staircase. The technicians led the way down the stairs, to another laboratory with a large vat and three life-support beds. One of the beds was occupied.

"Bigfoot didn't tell us everything," the technician declared. "We were here to run her operation. She ran this operation to fund other experiments. This is one of them," he pointed to the occupied bed.

The bed contained a comatose, but clearly pregnant, woman.

"Apparently, Bigfoot got on the wrong side of a couple of people in her past," the nervous man continued. "She didn't use names, but she called them 'the hussy' and 'the killer'. She'd rant now and then and we think that a former boyfriend or lover left her for 'the hussy' and 'the killer' killed another boyfriend or lover."

"She didn't encourage questions," the other tech continued the tale. "But she talked to herself a lot. "This 'subject'," he pointed to the pregnant woman, "Is carrying the hussy's child. I guess that this other woman needed to use artificial means to conceive a kid. Bigfoot managed to get a hold of some of the unused zygotes and implanted one."

"Here's a little bonus," the other technician took up the tale. "Bigfoot used this tank," he gestured to the vat, "to reform her body. She used some form of genetic manipulation to turn herself into a petite lady. According to her, she was going to use this new body to get close to the killer's family. She told us that she would make her move once he was out of the way."

"I don't think you're telling us everything," the accompanying FBI agent remarked, in a cold voice.

"Of course we aren't," the man snapped back. "We're living up to our side of the bargain."

"My client and his companion will provide further information based upon additional agreements," one of the lawyers claimed.

"Okay, where do we go from here?" Dr. Director asked the team assembled around her. "Does this get us any closer to finding Amy and Hanna?"

"Of course it does!" Dr. Drakken declared ignoring the on-screen negotiations between the lawyers and agents. "We know where Amy's going…if she isn't there already! She's going after Shego!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Amy looks at genetics the way the rest of us look at technology and hardware!" Drakken told the group. "Dr. Director, after Loward was defeated, didn't Global Justice examine the disabled walkers?"

"Drew! International agreements stipulated that all such devices would be destroyed without attempting to harness the technology."

Drakken didn't say anything, he just held his superior's gaze.

"Let's say…hypothetically…that Global Justice took such an action, what does it prove?" Dr. Director asked.

"You look at the technology that nearly defeated you. Amy looks at the genetics that defeated her. That's why she's recreated Shego's child, she wants to harness that ability! We all know about Shego's capabilities and we know that Stoppable has some strange ability, as well. Amy wants to harness it!"

"But Shego's powers aren't genetic," Wade protested. "She gained them when…"

"When the rainbow comet hit the tree house she and her brothers were playing in," Drakken interrupted. "Young man, the vast majority of the population would have died from the radiation. Somehow, Shego and her brothers absorbed it and became super powered. The ability to absorb the radiation has to be genetic in origin and that's what Amy wants!"

"Then what about the little girl?" Officer Hobble demanded. "She's adopted and shares no such genes with young Ronald."

"No, they're not related," Drew countered, his mind now moving very fast. "According to Fiske, Stoppable gained the Mystical Monkey Power a couple of years ago. However, the boy didn't exhibit any special powers until last spring. Shortly after that, this little girl comes up for adoption. Could she be genetically predisposed towards wielding this power and someone wants her close to Stoppable?"

"There's a great deal of speculation to that logic," Dr. Director commented. "So answer this; why would Amy be moving on Shego if she's already recreated Shego's child?"

"Two reasons," Drew countered. "Shego gained her power through a combination of genetics and radiation. Amy already has the genetics, so where does she go to get the radiation?"

"The only sources left are the residual radiation left in Team Go's bodies," Wade answered, with a shrug.

"Oh my God!" Dr. Director gasped. "Shego's unborn child has both the genetic disposition to harness the radiation and is being bathed in Shego's radiation."

"What be the other reason?" Officer Hobble asked.

"Revenge, of course," Drew told him. "Think of it! Shego took Amy's first paramour away from her. What better revenge than to take Shego's baby? Stoppable killed Amy's second lover so she gets even by taking away his sister. She gets revenge and power at the same time!"

"There's still one problem," Betty told him. "Shego's location is a closely guarded secret. I'm the only one in this room who knows where she is."

"I know that she's in either Central or South America," Drew countered. "I could figure that much out from when you let me attend her wedding. I don't know the country, but am I correct in my guess?"

"Drew, assuming you are correct…which I neither confirm or deny…Amy doesn't have even that information at her disposal. There's no way she could have deduced Shego's hiding place."

"She knows…if Shego's located near Huehuetenango, Guatemala," Wade interrupted, from his monitor. Dr. Director's gasp told everyone present that he was correct.

"Mr. Lode," Global Justice's head's voice was cold. "I do not appreciate you hacking Global Justice's computers and determining secrets."

"I didn't have to," Wade retorted. "I was talking to Jim and Tim Possible. Apparently, Miss Go gave them an extra-credit assignment over the Christmas break. They had to track down a variable radiation source. Using satellite telemetry, they deduced that the source spent most of its time in the Huehuetenango Area. It wasn't until Drakken referred to Shego's radiation and said that she had to be in that region that I figured out why Amy gave the twins that particular assignment. Wait a minute! Kim and Ron are on the line." Wade's image turned away from the screen while he spoke to his friends.

"But how could Amy know that Shego emitted a certain radiation?" Betty demanded of the others in the room. "Not even Global Justice understood the implications."

"Wasn't Aviarius able to track her to Rochester, even when she was moved secretly, to the Mayo Clinic?" Drew suggested. "I think we can conclude that my Go City counterpart knew that she emitted this radiation."

"And Miss Go volunteered to counsel Aviarius during his parole," Dr. Director finished, palming her face. "At least until he disappeared. Why didn't we put the pieces together before this?"

"Because the pieces were all disassociated until Amy made her move," Drew shrugged. "The important thing is what we do now. I believe that Amy must be moving against Shego."

"I agree. There's just too many coincidences coming together," Dr. Director nodded, before stabbing a button on the conference table.

"Operations Center," a voice responded.

"Emergency mission," Dr. Director curtly informed her subordinate. "I need a team at Subject 57's location, yesterday. Before you ask, she's located in Guatemala. What assets do we have nearby?"

"The only asset in the Central and South American zone of operations is Agent Du's team in the Amazon Basin."

"Establish contact immediately. Use priority one status to commandeer any available communication channel and inform me as soon as he responds."

"Yes, Dr. Director."

"What local assets do we have available?"

"We have transportation available, but no operatives."

"I happen to know of a pair of highly capable teenagers, who are more than ready to meet Amy," Wade interjected, from his monitor.

"Excellent," Dr. Director almost purred. "Operations, get transportation to pre-agent Red's domicile, ready to pick up her team in half an hour. You will immediately convey her to Subject 57's location. I'm releasing the exact location to your work station at this time."

"We're moving, Dr. Director," the operation officer assured her.

"Gentlemen," Dr. Director addressed the team. "I'd like to adjourn this meeting for an hour, while I make my arrangements. You're welcome to stay here, if you'd like. Drew, please accompany me to my office."

The assembled men stood as the lady strode out of the conference room, with the former mad scientist rushing to keep up with his boss.

* * *

A telephone rang in an apparently vacant house. The few bystanders nearby looked at the house for a few moments then studiously ignored the sound. Speculation, and there would be plenty of that, would take place well away from the building. Over the last couple of months, this house had gained an ill reputation in the neighborhood. It wasn't that anybody saw anything horrific…just odd and this oddness generated odd rumors.

For one thing, a local shopkeeper had been hired to deliver several bags of groceries to the house every week. As per his instructions, he left the bags on the back step every Wednesday evening and the bags were always gone by the next morning. While the lights occasionally came on at night, thick blinds obscured the interior, allowing only distorted shadows to be seen. Sometimes, several silhouettes were visible at the same time and when this happened, most of the silhouettes were the size of small children. Finally, there were the strange sounds at night.

At about the same time the shopkeeper started to deliver the groceries, the neighbors started to note strange sounds in the air at night. Sometimes, it sounded like large birds were flying through the darkness and at other times, it sounded as if monkeys were screeching from above. The more nervous and superstitious neighbors made dire warnings about what would happen soon.

Spurred on by the rumors, some of the more macho neighbors determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. Certainly, something wrong was taking place in the house…something that was either illegal or immoral…something that would bring fame and fortune to anyone bold enough to confront it. The forming mob stopped cold, however, when a band of smugglers showed up and placed themselves between the civic minded rabble and the target of its wrath. The smugglers' leader, a very articulate and cultured Englishman, informed the mob that whatever was inside the house posed no threat to the local community. The man went on to explain that the only harm that would come to the neighbors would be if they attempted to force their way inside…at which point the smugglers would be honor-bound to teach painful lessons. The mob, riding the crest of an alcohol-enhanced wave of civic pride, surged forward to let the man know that no popinjay of a foreigner was going to tell them what to do…

And quickly found out that the Englishman and his band weren't the sort to be trifled with. There were no fatalities, just numerous painful injuries that would take a long time to heal. Realizing that there were dire consequences involved in crossing the smugglers, the neighbors settled in to wait for the worst.

Yet the worst didn't happen. The shopkeeper continued to deliver the groceries, the strange sounds continued to call from the night sky, but people didn't vanish, possessions didn't disappear and property didn't become vandalized. After a few more weeks, the smugglers (who the locals discovered were paying for the groceries and utilities) hired a couple of local boys to keep the mystery house's yard in good repair. The locals quickly decided that there was nothing to gain by digging into the mystery, accepted the trickle of coin the house pumped into the neighborhood and went about their lives. Of course, they continued to speculate about just what was going on inside.

The few people present on this day would have a little something to report to their neighbors later on. They would report that a telephone rang four times before a high-pitched voice, speaking in English, answered it. Shrugging their shoulders, the bystanders considered just what was happening. None of them guessed that a small, winged man had answered the phone.

"This is a recorded message," a nauseatingly cheerful voice sounded in Aviarius's ear. "From number…"

The modified villain recognized Amy's cell phone number.

"Avers, seize your target immediately," the geneticist's voice instructed. Aviarius hung up the phone when the cheerful voice returned and asked him if he wanted to repeat the message.

Avers checked the clock to see that it was early afternoon. As per his previous instructions, he would wait until nightfall before making his move. He was more than ready, his minions and he had been scouting the area for weeks.

"We finish this tonight, Monty," the hybrid gloated, in his high-pitched voice. "Amy told me to bring Shego back alive, but I can do with you whatever I want. You'll learn a hard lesson about leaving me to rot in prison. I think I'll even let you know that it was your faithful service that allowed me to stay here, undisturbed, all these weeks."

Had there been any bystanders outside of the house now, they would have reported whistling laughter coming from inside.

* * *

"The gizmo confirms it, Agent Du," one of Will's team told him. "It's one of the orchids we need." The burly man snorted out a humorless laugh. "After spending yesterday and most of today not finding any of 'em, we find three all at once."

"Dig them all up," Du ordered. "And be careful with them. Since we found three, we'll have two spares in case the first one dies.

Du and the other two agents grabbed their shovels and started to dig; each one unearthing one of the rare flowers. Du was just about to pry his plant out of the ground and into a basket when his communicator chirped.

"Agent Du," he answered, stretching his sore back.

"This is Dr. Director," his commander's voice informed him. "I am overriding your mission. You will immediately cease operations and travel to Subject 57's location. Do you understand me?"

"Sheg…er, yes, Dr. Director," Du answered. He motioned for his team to continue unearthing the flowers while he spoke to the commander.

"Very well, I am transmitting her exact location. How long will it take you to depart your current location?"

"Four hours," answered Will, wincing as he said so.

"I don't like hearing that, Du."

"We're four hours from our aircraft," Will replied, honestly. "It will take us that long to get back. The jungle is too dense for us to set down just anywhere."

"Understood. Move as fast as you can. What's the status of your current project?"

"We're loading up orchids as we speak," Du answered, noting that his team was doing just that.'

"Excellent! Will, listen carefully. This is a guardian mission that may turn into a rescue mission. Miss Go, a teacher at Middleton High, is actually DNAmy in disguise. We have reason to believe that she will attempt to seize Subject 57. As we do not know her exact whereabouts, I can not tell you if you will arrive before such an attempt takes place."

"Understood, Dr. Director."

"That's not all. Amy seems to be genetically enhanced. She possesses enhanced strength and the ability to deliver electrical shocks. Furthermore, we suspect that she had given herself additional capabilities but we cannot even begin to guess what they happen to be."

"We'll be careful, Dr. Director."

"That's still not all. She has also kidnapped Hanna Stoppable and we suspect that she's working with Aviarius. You must work under the assumption that she has a hostage and multiple accomplices."

"Understood. Will we receive backup?"

"Team Possible will be in route shortly. They should arrive on location shortly after sundown. While satellite communications are unreliable, you will be able to contact them when you come into line-of-site proximity."

"I'll look for them."

"Very well. Will, I want you to understand your order of priorities. Your first priority is to assure that Subject 57 does not fall into Amy's hands. Your second priority is to recover Hanna Stoppable. Your third priority is to apprehend Amy and any of her accomplices." Static had started to intrude upon Dr. Director's words.

"This channel is becoming unstable," she concluded. "So I'm transmitting Subject 57's coordinates to you, now. This could be dangerous Will, so be careful."

The channel closed before Will could reply.

"Okay people," he announced, while picking up one of the orchids. "I want us back at the aircraft in two hours."

"It took us four hours to get here," one of the agents protested.

"So we'd better run, hadn't we?" Du retorted.

He did just that, hoping that they could reach the aircraft before night descended upon the jungle.

* * *

"I can't think of anything else," Wade, speaking through the Kimmunicator, told Kim. "We're kind of making this up as we go along."

"It's better than nothing," Kim, from her seat in the Global Justice aircraft. "Even if Amy isn't personally going after Shego, if we can catch her henchmen, it'll give us another lead to find her. Doing something has done wonders for Ron."

"Where is he, by the way?"

"He's in back," she answered, holding her Kimmunicator so the camera could see him. "He's trying to meditate and get ready for a confrontation."

"Well, I'm already losing signal so I'll say good luck. Keep me updated as often as you can. Wade out."

Kim put the device away and tried to relax. After a few minutes, Ron roused himself, got up and sat next to her.

"How did it go?" She asked.

"I was able to contact Sensei," Ron told her, with a subdued voice.

"I'm guessing it wasn't pleasant."

"He didn't sound upset," Ron frowned. "He said that it wasn't my fault that she's gone but that it's my duty to rescue her. After that, he told me that we've helped many over the years and that I should be prepared to accept their help in return. He seemed really pleased that Drakken has us on the trail."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Ron clutched her hand for support. "I managed to contact Hanna."

"Really? Were you able to learn anything?"

"No, Hanna doesn't have the skill to communicate. I could sort of read and exchange emotions. She was terrified! She just doesn't understand why all of this is happening to her."

"The poor dear," Kim whispered. "Wait, you said she was…"

"I managed to get her to understand that I was looking for her and that I thought I would find her. She calmed down…a little…after that. I was only able to maintain contact with her for a few minutes. I hope I helped."

"I'm sure you did. What now?"

"We find Amy and let her know that we really….REALLY…don't approve of villains who attack children."

Ron had delivered his last remark in a tone so icy that Kim became nervous. She recalled Ron's feelings of guilt in the past when Desi, Eric and Warrick Loward had fallen to his hand. Squeezing his hand, she promised herself to keep him from doing something he would regret later, when they finally caught up to Amy.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Last week, the Kimmunity suffered yet another loss. Screaming Pheonix was a good friend of many of us and an avid reader and reviewer of this arc. I'll miss him terribly and I'm very sorry that I didn't finish this story while he was still with us to enjoy it. SP, I hope you're continuing to read, somewhere, and will tell me what you think when I'm finished. _

_On a happier note, I appreciate the continued hits, reviews and PMs that this story has generated. Thanks everyone. _

_My biggest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his continued beta efforts, since the first story in this arc. Thanks Joe._

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	30. Flight

Chapter 30: Flight

"Well, all the assets are in motion," Dr. Director informed Drew, while setting down her telephone. "Team Possible and Will's team are en route to Shego's home. Now, I have to sit here and hope something goes right. It's times like this that I wish I was still an agent, rather than a manager."

Her phone chimed again, distracting her from her self-pity.

"Dr. Director," she answered.

"Ma'am, I have an incoming report from Agent Seahawk," her communications officer reported. "He's on site at the Seattle investigation site."

"Put him through."

"Dr. Director," the man announced, we've had an interesting and sensitive development at DNAmy's laboratory. We managed to decipher her computer files and have discovered two, miniature cryogenic storage containers. According to her files, these containers have blood samples from Shego and Ron Stoppable."

"That confirms your theory that Amy was trying to harness genetic powers from those two," Dr. Director told Drew, before speaking into her phone. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes ma'am, Amy actually cloned the two subjects. There's one clone of each, roughly three months old."

"Where are they?"

"They are living, separately, in a form of criminal foster care. Amy has been paying a couple of people to raise the children."

"Agent Seahawk, I want you to take custody of the children as soon as you can arrange for foster care."

"Dr. Director," the unseen agent protested. "Their home lives aren't exactly a 50's era television show but it's the only home these kids have ever known."

"That's not the point, Agent Seahawk. Custody is going to become a very sticky subject with those children and I don't want them to disappear into the criminal underworld while we're trying to figure out who gets them. Besides, Amy may have incorporated enhancements into those kids, so I want Global Justice to be able to keep an eye on them."

"Understood, commander. I'll make the proper arrangements immediately."

"Will custody really be all that confusing?" Drew asked his boss. "I mean, shouldn't the children go to Shego and the buffoon, respectively?"

"Not necessarily," she sighed in return. "The child currently developing, a sibling to the one Shego's carrying right now, _is_ a simple case. Since Fiske and Shego are the parents, they get custody. The clones," she shook her head. "Stoppable and Shego aren't parents and Stoppable is hardly prepared to be a father. Global Justice will take custody of those children until the courts make a determination."

"It will be interesting to see the looks on Shego's and Monty's faces when they find out they have a second child on the way," Drew grinned. Then he grew agitated again, "that's assuming that we get the assets to them in time…Oh dear lord! How could I have overlooked it?"

"Overlooked what?" Dr. Director demanded.

"We've got two teams converging on Shego's home," Drew explained. "But did we think to actually warn Shego and Monty that Amy was coming for her?"

"It's always the simple things," Dr. Director dropped her head into her hand. She quickly recovered and punched some buttons on her computer. "Drew, I'm forwarding contact information for their employer to your office. Communications are still tricky but warn them as soon as you can. I'm going back to the conference room. I think we're going to adjourn our meeting until we actually find out something else."

* * *

"Hey Fiske!"

"Yes?" Montgomery Fiske asked, looking up from the balance sheet he was studying.

"There's some guy on the phone for you. It's an international call and he sounds pretty jumpy."

"Very well," Monty sighed, rising from the desk and glancing out of the window.

He was putting in some truly long hours these days. Shego's pregnancy had advanced to the point that her acting as an enforcer was more than a little ridiculous. As such, he had stepped up and taken on some enforcing duties as well as accounting and asset management. It wasn't a terrible sacrifice…Shego had become increasingly moody, as of late and sharing a home with a moody, super-powered woman was a dicey proposition. Much to his shock, he was genuinely infatuated with his wife and excited about his impending fatherhood.

But it didn't mean he enjoyed spontaneous verbal and physical abuse.

Ambling into the office, where his employer's guards made sure nobody used his phones for anything but 'legitimate' business, he picked up the phone indicated.

"Fiske," he answered.

"Dear God Monty, I hope you can move faster than that!"

"Who is this?" Fiske demanded. "You sound familiar."

"No time for guessing!" The voice snapped. "It's Dr. Drakken."

"Drew! Why are you calling me…"

"Shut up and listen! Amy's back and she's targeting Shego!"

"What?" Fiske saw the two guards looking at him with both curious and concerned expressions. "How do you know this?"

"There's no time to explain!" Drakken roared over the line. "I don't know how long this line will stay open and I don't know when she's going to make her move down there. All I know is that she's taken a new form, allied with Aviarius and has already made trouble in the U.S.!"

"She's targeting Shego? Not me?"

"It's a genetic thing, you fool! She wants to harness Shego's DNA and your child is a prime target! If you're in the way, she'll take you apart on the way to Shego. Now listen, we have help on the way. Agent Will Du has a team coming up from the Amazon Basin and Kim Possible and the Buffoon are on the way to your location, so don't run away from Global Justice."

"Why…"

"Don't ask, listen," Drakken growled, with some static sounding over the line. "Amy knows where you're living so get Shego and get out of there! Try to make contact with the rescue teams! We'll…" static began to overwhelm his voice. "…return…stop…after…"

The line went dead.

Fiske found himself staring at the handset. However, the archeologist didn't hesitate for long. He quickly hung up the phone.

"I have to go!" He told the two guards.

"Hold on a moment," one of them rumbled, while moving to block the door. "Someone calls you up and you run out of here, how do we know it isn't a setup?"

"Gustavo, Benito," Fiske replied, as calmly as he could. "I could stay here and explain that an old acquaintance just told me that another old acquaintance is about to attack my wife, but I shall make this more efficient. Either get out of my way or I shall open the door by throwing you through it! If I'm lying, you are free to gain your revenge at a later date."

The two guards shared a look. Both had learned, the hard way, just how dangerous the asset manager could be.

"Okay," Benito said, as he and his comrade stepped aside. "But we're reporting this to the boss."

"I'd be disappointed in you, if you failed to do so," Fiske nodded, springing between the guards and out of the room.

Scattering people in his haste, Monty sprinted through the converted warehouse and into the employee parking area. It usually took him half of an hour to drive from the smugglers' headquarters to his home. Unfortunately, that was in the pre-dawn darkness. Now, with the sun just setting, the streets were full of people. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he forced himself to refrain from sounding the horn or driving down the sidewalk…as it wouldn't do to get into an accident or a fight just now. The sun had already set by the time he reached his home.

"Shego!" He bellowed, charging to the front door. He was so distraught that he had difficulty fitting the key into the lock. After what seemed to be forever, he finally managed to get the door unlocked and barged inside. He quickly charged into their bedroom, to be confronted by the sight of their empty, disheveled bed.

"Shego!" He roared.

"What?" The irritated response came from right behind him, nearly sending him into the ceiling.

"Where were you?" He gasped, trying to control his breathing.

"Where do you think?" She demanded, rolling her eyes. "I'm better than eight months along, so I'm visiting the smallest room every few minutes. Wait a minute, what are you doing here?"

"Drew called me at work. Amy's after you…after our child!"

"What!"

Fiske took two deep breaths and recounted, as best as he could, his conversation with the former villain.

"So, we must prepare ourselves to welcome her properly," Fiske concluded, pulling a hardwood staff out of the closet.

"Wrong," Shego corrected him. "We get the heck out of here."

"But our home…our position within the smuggler's band. We can't just give them up!"

"They're not worth our lives!" Shego snapped back.

"Certainly we can handle Amy. She no longer has her gargantuan form."

"Oy! Don't you know the first rule of making a hit?"

"No…"

"You don't make the move unless you know you're gonna win. Amy handed me mine twice already and I'm in no condition to throw down again. Now grab the emergency bag and let's get the heck outta here!"

Fiske did as he was instructed and met his wife at the front door. Halfway to their vehicle, Shego gasped and pointed to the sky.

"Monty! Do you see what I see? Look at the moon!"

"There are several flying creatures outlined against it. They almost look humanoid."

"Sort of like the kind of things that Amy would whip up" she gritted through her teeth. "Forget the vehicle, Amy's going to be on it if it moves. We head to the cave!"

"Over that terrain…in your condition?"

"Rough ground's easier than dying! C'mon Monty, we've go to move!"

Montgomery Fiske supported his pregnant wife as they made the best time they could up the steep jungle slope behind their home.

* * *

A short series of whistles instructed his flying minions to execute the plan they had practiced several times. This was going to be too easy! Monty must have taken the night off, since the couple's vehicle was still parked next to the house. Half of he minions circled the house while the others trailed Aviarius. The aerial villain swooped low, tucked himself into a tight ball and burst through the bedroom window.

"Monty!" Aviarius shrieked, as his minions swept in after him. "It's time to greet an old friend!"

But there was no reaction. No sleepy forms lurched out of the bed, no curses of fear, anger or confusion sounded in the house, only the sounds of his own minions, bursting into every room. Moments later, those same minions were clustered around him, emitting the whistling chitters that told him they couldn't find the victims. Growling, Aviarius turned on the lights and examined the room.

The bed was unmade, which either suggested the occupants had fled the house straight out of bed…or meant that Shego and Monty weren't in the habit of making their bed. Before he could examine the rest of the house, another minion swept into the room, chittering that a vehicle was approaching the neighborhood. Aviarius turned off the light and waited, while the minion flew back out the window. Moments later, additional squeaks drifted in through the window, informing him that the vehicle had pulled up to this very house. Smiling with his elongated face Aviarius crouched in the shadows; ready to surprise his prey when it walked into the room.

Loud voices, which he didn't recognize, shouted from outside the house. While Aviarius didn't know enough Spanish to know exactly what they were shouting, he knew enough to determine they were demanding that Shego and Monty answer them. Realizing that a confrontation wasn't in his best interest, he whistled for his minions to follow him and dove back out of the window. Unfortunately, he broke out more of the damaged portal and made a racket.

Clearly, the unknown men heard him. Aviarius heard at least one force his way through the front door as he scrambled for altitude. Once above the house, he could see one man circling the house clockwise while another circled the house counter-clockwise. The two men met behind the building and were soon joined by a third man, who emerged from the same window Aviarius had broken. The trio looked around with drawn pistols, looking for anything to engage.

Unfortunately for them, they failed to look up.

Unseen, Aviarius took a few minutes to listen to their conversation. From what he could gather, he determined that the leader of Monty's smuggling band had sent them to figure out why the Englishman had acted so oddly, earlier that evening. Apparently, someone had figured out that Shego was a target and warned the former monkey fanatic. The men below him were now discussing what they were going to do. Apparently, the smugglers' took a very dim view of someone outside of their organization taking out a hit on one of their members. The goons were now discussing retaliation upon whoever had broken into their cohorts' home and how much they were looking forward to the meeting.

They should have been careful what they wished for.

Aviarius and his team had rehearsed attacking armed foes so it didn't take long for the birdman to set up an attack. His minions were already organized into two-monkey teams, so all he had to do was designate a target for each pair. Moments later a single mongel swooped out of the night sky, shrieking like a banshee, struck one of the thugs on the head and flew back off into the darkness. All three thugs fired wildly in the general direction their tormentor had fled.

Three more mongels dove out of the darkness the moment the thugs extend their weapons. This time, the hybrids struck exposed wrists with the sharp claws on their hind feet. All three brutes dropped their weapons and three more mongels, which were following the lead three, scooped up the handguns and flew off into the night. Disarmed and confused, the smugglers weren't ready for the true horror that descended upon them.

Aviarius picked out a target and plummeted out of the night sky and sunk his clawed feet into the man's shoulders. While the birdman couldn't lift his prey into the sky, with a twist of his body he transferred his considerable momentum to his target and released him. Before the thug even comprehended that he was being attacked, he was sent crashing into the house with bone-shattering force.

The thug's companions shrieked in terror but were quickly swarmed by the mongels. Using skill to compensate for their size, the creatures surrounded their foes and attacked in turn. One mongel would swoop in and either claw or buffet his target; then quickly retreat, while another attacked from another direction, before the thug could react. Distracted, the smugglers didn't notice Aviarius quickly climb into the air one more time.

This time, the birdman didn't do anything fancy. Tucking into another dive, he pulled up just in front of the flailing man, while whistling for his minions to retreat. The mongels scattered, giving the smuggler just enough time to see the oncoming nightmare. Aviarius flared his wings and lashed out with his feet, delivering a blow that sent the victims sprawling across the yard. Satisfied that the second smuggler was out of the fight, the altered criminal turned his attention on the last thug.

Another series of whistles called the swarming mongels back from the last man. Suddenly free from the harassment, the battered man stared in horror at the approaching hybrid. Aviarius took full advantage of the man's terror, leaping into the air, sinking his claws into the clothing covering the man's chest and bearing the horrified smuggler to the ground.

"Do you speak English?" He demanded, from his perch upon the comatose man's chest.

Unfortunately for Aviarius, the man shrieked one last time and fainted.

"So much for questioning him," Aviarius grumbled, hopping off of his unconscious perch.

A low rumble from the sky drew his attention upwards.

"Blast it!" He cursed, recognizing Amy's aircraft. "She's gonna want her prisoner!"

While his transformation had given Avers a bird's aspect, he was definitely not bird-brained. He quickly sent half of his mongels into the bedroom to sample Monty and Shego's scent from the bed. As soon as they returned, he instructed them to circle the property, well away from the building, to pick up the trail. While the hybrid creatures didn't have a bloodhound's tracking ability, they retained enough of a monkey's sense of smell to follow a fresh trail. Avers had the situation well in hand by the time the aircraft touched down and his benefactor descended from the ramp.

"Where is my subject," she demanded of the birdman.

"Someone tipped them off before I got here," he informed her. "Apparently, ol' Monty received a bizarre phone call earlier this evening and came rushing home. These three goons," Avers prodded one of the comatose smugglers with a clawed foot. "Came here to find out why their precious Englishman ran away. When they didn't find anyone here, they decided that someone had taken out a hit on Monty and Shego."

"How long have they been gone?" Amy demanded.

"No more than a few minutes and they can't be far, their vehicle's still out front. I've got the mongels sniffing for a trail," excited, whistling shrieks interrupted him. "Ha! They've found the scent already!"

Avers led his benefactor to where two of his minions were hopping and flapping excitedly. The modified villain listened for a short time before issuing a series of whistling commands. The two mongels who had called his attention to the trail put their noses back to the ground and started to follow the scent while several more took to the skies.

"What are you doing?" Amy asked.

"The mongels don't have dogs' noses, but they're more intelligent than canines," Avers cackled. "I'm having two of them follow the trail while another two fly on ahead. If Monty and Shego are traveling in a straight line, we'll save time. If not, we're still on their trail."

"I can't think of a better idea," Amy admitted. "Here," she tossed him what looked like a wristwatch. "It's a low powered communicator and tracking device. I'll go back to my aircraft and follow that way. If I spot them from the air, I'll call you."

* * *

"I have bad news," Fiske announced, as he entered the refuge cave where his wife was catching her breath. "Our pursuers are seeking us."

"That's why we found this cave," Shego snapped back. "It's damned hard to spot."

"Unfortunately, our pursuers have found a solution to this. They appear to be tracking us by scent."

"Are you sure about that?" Shego wasn't in the mood for more trudging through the dark jungle.

"Trust me, my dear, I've been hunted before. This, however, is the most serious. Our pursuers made the mistake of leaving our outside light on, so I had a good view from my perch. We face something that is approximately man sized, but with wings and the capability of flight. This creature seems to command a sizable pack of smaller, flying primates. Working together, they overwhelmed Gustavo, Benito and Enricho without much trouble. After this, a hoverjet, the type that Henchco sells, showed up and a petite woman jumped off for a short conversation with the largest creature. After that, they began to track us, with the smaller creatures keeping their noses to the ground."

"Okay, what do we do?" Shego demanded. "I've had plenty of people try to track me down but I've never had wild creatures track me."

"We get out of here, while leaving a false trail," Monty answered, helping her to her feet.

Much to Shego's surprise, her husband led her back along the route they had used to reach their hidden refuge…directly towards their pursuers. After a few minutes, Monty called a halt.

"We go up here," he told her, gesturing towards a low-hanging branch.

"Are you kidding me?" She snarled. "I'm not exactly at my most agile!"

"Trust me," he insisted. "I scouted this pathway out before I returned to the cave."

Shego grumbled some uncomplimentary remarks but accepted his help onto the branch. While Fiske no longer had simian characteristics, he was still fit and agile, so he easily leapt onto the branch after her. Much to her shock, he simply scooped her into his arms and took off along a series of branches, as if he were walking on a sidewalk.

"What are you doing?" Shego had to concentrate on keeping her voice down.

"Making it difficult for our pursuers to follow a scent trail. We will return to the ground shortly."

"Then what?"

"Then we go over the ridge to the airstrip."

"That's a rough trail," Shego pointed out.

"As you said earlier, it is better to take a hard road than die. Ah! Here we are, time to return to the ground."

Fiske set his wife on her feet, leapt to the ground then assisted her descent. Once on the ground, the couple turned up hill and began to struggle through the undergrowth.

* * *

Avers and Amy were both beyond peeved. Finding the Fiskes' cave had been easy enough but the villainous couple wasn't at home, so to speak.

"This is clearly some sort of hideyhole," Amy mused, staring at the supplies stockpiled along one wall. "And a clever one at that. Why aren't they here?"

"You've asked that question a dozen times over the last hour," Avers snarled back…for about the fifth time. "I think it's obvious that they figured out we were on their trail and fled."

"If you're so smart, where did they go?" Amy snapped. "There's only one scent trail leading to the cave and we haven't found any sort of passageway deeper inside. They gave you the slip, didn't they?"

"Not yet, the mongels are retracing the trail, they'll find something."

"They've already retraced it twice," she growled. "What makes you think they'll find something this time?"

"Because I'm about to accompany them," Avers decided. He whistled for two of the small creatures to backtrack the scent trail.

With the rest of the mongels following him, Avers followed the two trackers back along his prey's route. He directed another pair of the creatures to parallel his course, trying to find where Fiske and Shego had turned aside. At several points, the trackers found heavier scents on trees. When they made these discoveries, Avers directed additional mongels to circle the trees, suspecting that his quarry had fled at that point. Unfortunately for the birdman, these sweeps didn't regain the trail.

"I don't understand it," he admitted to Amy. "They can't fly, so how did they manage to make their trail vanish?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if I picked the wrong ally," Amy sneered back. "I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius."

"I am! I simply don't know how…Eh! What's that?" Avers looked up at his suddenly excited minions, who had perched in the branches above the arguing pair.

"They've picked up the trail!" He crowed. "Of course! The two realized we were following them by scent and took to the branches! We have them now!"

"That was clever of them," Amy mused, shaking her head. "Even though we picked up the trail, they gained a couple of hours on us. I wonder what they're doing with it."

* * *

"We gained a couple of hours," Fiske informed his wife, from their resting-place at the top of the ridge. "But it appears that they are back on our trail. We can hardly outrun them so that leaves us only one choice."

"The airstrip?" Shego asked.

"Exactly. I didn't want to seize one of our employer's aircraft but I see no choice. Unless we can flee, we are doomed."

"So let's go."

Fiske led the way to the small airstrip, where their employer maintained a couple of small aircraft. The couple knew that the airplanes would be ready to fly, as the smugglers kept them for emergencies…such as the fleeing couple were experiencing. Of course, the smugglers maintained a guard over the aircraft. Fiske made no effort to avoid the man but pounded on the door of his small hut.

"Fiske!" The guard gasped. "What's the accountant…and the pregnant enforcer…doing here at this time of night?"

"It's an emergency," Fiske told him. "Unfortunately, it doesn't involve our employer."

"What…" the man only managed to begin to ask for an explanation before the Englishman leapt upon him. The guard was not a fighter, so the rogue archaeologist quickly overpowered him and secured his limbs with duct tape.

"I'm sorry about this," Monty told the man. "But I had no choice. You should be able to free yourself in a few minutes. When you do, make sure to report exactly what I've done. Also, inform our employer that assailants attacked Gustavo, Benito and Enricho, at my house. With any luck, they are still alive. For the record, I am fleeing the same group that attacked the boss's muscle. Should they come here, I suggest you hide."

Showing a last bit of compassion for his former colleague, Fiske dragged him into a hangar and hid him under a tarp. Shego insisted that her husband pilot the plane so he assisted her into the passenger seat. Moving quickly, he opened the hangar's bay doors, started the aircraft and taxied onto the crude runway.

"I thought just occurred to me," he admitted. "Do you have any idea just where we should go?"

"East," Shego decided, after only a moment of thought. "We've got contacts with the criminal element in Puerto Barrios. We should be able to hide there until we make additional arrangements."

"East it is," Fiske agreed, before revving the small engine and taking off into the night sky.

Neither of the fleeing couple noticed the winged shapes burst out of the hangar doors and onto the runway as the aircraft took to the sky.

* * *

"Amy!" Avers snapped into his communication device. "They got away! They're in a small airplane. I can fly, but I can't catch a plane!"

"Which way are they going?" Amy's voice asked, over the device.

"East."

"Get up into the air, about three hundred feet," she instructed. "I'm not going to waste time landing. I'll turn on my lights and open the hatches. I'm sure my aircraft is faster than theirs is. They haven't escaped yet."

* * *

"Something's happening behind us," Fiske informed his wife. Shego, who had been too distracted to look into the rear-view mirror, now turned around.

"Those look like lights and some sort of jet engine exhaust," she commented. "And whatever it is, it's pretty close to the airfield we just left."

"I don't believe it is coincidence, do you?"

"No. That has to be Amy's aircraft. She's after us." Shego thought for a moment before speaking again. "Change of plans. If they were that hot on our trail, they know what direction we went after takeoff. Make sure we don't have any lights on, drop as low as you dare and head northeast."

"Why that direction?"

"Two reasons," Shego winced and gasped before continuing. "First, it's off of the course we set earlier. If we're lucky, Amy will keep moving east and lose us."

"You don't sound confident."

"I'm not. The other reason is that I want to be close to international borders and northeast will take us to the three-way border between Mexico, Belize and Guatemala. It's one thing to sneak an aircraft into a country. It's another thing to chase another aircraft across an international border. That sort of stunt tends to get attention…as in armed forces. Henchco makes good aircraft, but not good enough to stand up to an air force."

"So why not south, towards El Salvador and Honduras?"

"I've done some very, very bad things in those countries," Shego admitted. "If we all wind up captured, we might get off light…in Guatemala, Mexico or Belize. If we're captured in El Salvador or Honduras…well…let's not go there, both figuratively and literally." Suddenly, Shego gasped again, "Ohhhhh!"

"Are you unwell?"

"Never mind! Get low and point this thing northeast!"

* * *

"They've just taken a turn to the left…blast it! I've lost them!"

"Keep looking," Amy told her underling, while swinging the aircraft in the direction he had indicated. "You have bird's eyes."

"That doesn't help in the dark…ha! There they are! Seven degrees to the right and down low."

"I'll take your word for it. Stay up here with me and be my eyes."

"Gladly. The cargo compartment is more cramped than Henchco's usual aircraft."

"That's because I bought one with a prisoner storage option. It takes up space usually used for cargo space. Am I still on course?"

"Two degrees to the left…Blast it! I've lost them again! Doesn't this vehicle have radar?"

* * *

"They seem to be having difficulty following us," Fiske told his wife. "While they adjusted their course to match ours, they aren't matching it exactly."

"It isn't easy to follow a blacked-out plane at night, even with a full moon," she informed him.

"Certainly they have some sort of radar, or other tracking system."

"You're not thinking like a crook," she corrected him. "While I'm sure that that thing has some sort of radar detector, it isn't about to have a radar emitter."

"Why not?"

"Because active radar can be detected!" She snapped, rolling her eyes. "Nations' defense forces tend to get jumpy when somebody starts using a tracking radar inside their borders."

"Okay, they need to use, as the saying goes, the mark 1 eyeball," Fiske replied. "How do we use that to our advantage?"

"Keep on course and bring it up a little. We'll make it easy for them to follow us…until we decide to make it difficult."

"Aren't you concerned that they will attack us?"

* * *

"Okay, we don't have any radar," Avers grumbled. "But at least I can see them again. Bring your speed up and we'll be close enough to shoot them down in a few minutes."

"Are you an idiot? Even if this vehicle had weapons, which it doesn't, I wouldn't actually shoot at that plane."

"Why not?"

"Because I want that hussy's baby!" Amy snarled at her dense underling. "And I want that baby alive!"

"Okay, genius, what do we do now?"

"We trail them! This vehicle still has several hundred miles worth of fuel endurance. I'm willing to bet that that aircraft only has a fraction of that."

"Wait a minute!" Avers looked very confused. "They're climbing! You should be able to see them pretty soon."

"I can! Why are they making things easy for us?"

* * *

"I fail to see why we are trying to assist our pursuers," Fiske told his wife.

"Two reasons," Shego replied, looking very smug. "First of all, it's too bloody dangerous to fly as low as we were."

"Then why did we do so?"

"It proved that they have trouble following us when we get on the deck."

"And this helps us…how?"

"We'll be able to pick our spot to lose them!" She answered. "We can't outrun them and we can't outlast them. At some point, we're going to have to try to lose them so we stay safe up here and pick our time and place to shake them off of our tail."

"When will that be?"

"When we get some additional attention. The second reason we did this was to make it easy for the Mexican authorities to pick us up on radar."

"Now _you're_ not thinking like a crook," Monty remarked, looking at his wife from the corner of his eye. "We hardly want to be caught by any authorities."

"Usually, you'd be right," Shego countered. "But I don't want Amy and whatever she's whipped up catching us alone. If we can ditch her and get away, fine, but if we can't lose her, I want a lot of armed men around when she catches us. Eeergh!" The mercenary grimaced in pain again.

"Are you injured?" Fiske asked.

"No, just fly the plane and keep an eye on Amy."

* * *

"I'm getting nervous about getting this close to an international border, while flying this high," Aviarius commented, after over an hour of flight. "What can those two be thinking?"

"They're playing chicken with us," Amy told him, only to be interrupted by a growl.

"I don't like birds being used in a negative context," he snarled.

"Get over it! You know what I mean! They're guessing that we won't dare a confrontation with the Mexican Air Force. Well, I'll go as far as they will! I've gotten in too deep to back off now."

* * *

"I see a problem, my dear," Fiske told his wife. "We have perhaps a half of an hour of fuel left. We are over Belize now and very close to the three-way border."

"Okay, we look for a place to put this thing down," Shego stared at the ground below them. "The moon's about to peek through the clouds, so we only have a few minutes…there!" The green-hued woman pointed at the ground, slightly ahead and to the left of the aircraft's current course. "See that large building with the big clearing to the side?"

"Yes…"

"That's where we're landing."

"My dear, our pursuers will be on top of us in momen…"

"Not yet! We're going to continue on into Mexican airspace, then drop low and come back here! If the Mexican Air Force comes out to play, I'm sure they're going to be more interested in a futuristic jet aircraft than a light, private plane. Even if Amy manages to lose them, she might not be able to find us on the ground. Aaaarrgh!" Shego punctuated her statement with another expression of pain.

"You are clearly injured! What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you when we're on the ground! Now, keep track of our direction and speed, so we can find this place again."

* * *

"Avers! Can you see them? I lost the plane when it dove!"

"Yes, they're turning back around," the birdman told his benefactor. "Blast it! I've lost them again!" A warbling sound interrupted his rant. "Is that…"

"The radar detector," Amy answered. "Someone's tracking us! Shego and Monty are much more clever than I thought."

"What do we do now?"

"Henchco equipped the hoverjet with a contingency for this sort of situation," she answered. "I just have to press this button…"

"Thank you for activating your somewhat patented, Henchco evasion system," a nauseatingly cheerful voice announced, from the console. "Please release the controls and refrain from giving your Henchco automatic piloting system any commands."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Avers asked.

"At this time," the voice continued. "Your Henchco hoverjet is deploying a decoy. This decoy has been carefully programmed to mimic your Hencho hoverjet's radar, thermal and visual characteristics. Please wait a few moments while the decoy's transponders power up, in order to further serve you."

"It's giving an accurate report," Aviarius reported. "There's some kind of small, flying object right behind us."

"It better scan fast," Amy retorted. "The radar signal is getting more powerful by the moment."

"Thank you for your patience," the voice announced. "Now that the drone is prepared to fully mimic your Henchco hoverjet's characteristics, please remain seated, firmly grasp a solid object and prepare for a slight bout of nausea."

"I don't like the sound of tha…AAAAAT!" Amy found herself screaming, as the hoverjet's engines suddenly died.

Her screams, as well as Avaiarius's, were drowned out by the combined, panicked shrieks of over two dozen mongels. The genetics expert was only scarcely aware of a loud explosion somewhere above her. After a seeming eternity, but was actually less than a minute, the engines came back to life.

"Since you are listening to this recording, you are one of the 88% of passengers who have survived the initial, evasion maneuver," the cheerful voice sounded. "Please mention this fact when you schedule your routine service and Henchco will be proud to provide you with a complimentary, commemorative plaque.

"I don't know if I want to tear out the speaker," Avaiarius told his companion. "Or track down whomever provided the voice and tear out his larynx."

"Just go back and make sure there hasn't been any damage," Amy told him.

"We are now entering the second phase of your Henchco evasion maneuver," the voice continued. "When your Henchco hoverjet dropped altitude, it also ejected chaff and flares. Since the drone is currently flying at your previous course and speed, there is a 97.7% chance that anyone who was tracking you is now pursuing the drone. Hencho strongly recommends that you change course at this time and clear the area. For your convenience, the engine output has been automatically reduced 70% for the next five minutes, to reduce the heat signature. Good luck and be sure to fill out the customer satisfaction feedback form when you return to your lair."

Shaking her head at the overt marketing, Amy set course back towards Belize. Shortly before she reached the point at which her prey had suddenly dove, Aviarius returned to the cockpit.

"What did you find out?" She asked.

"That this aircraft is structurally sound and that mongels are subject to airsickness," he shuddered. "It's a horrid mess back there. We're gonna need to clean it out before much longer."

"That can wait. This is where they made their move, so keep your eyes open."

The weather cooperated with the two villains; a break in the cloud allowed the full moon to bathe the jungle with silvery light.

* * *

"There!" Aviarius suddenly pointed. "There's their aircraft, at the edge of the clearing by that building. It looks like it crashed."

"Those dolts had better not have injured that child," Amy snarled. It didn't take long before the hoverjet was on the ground. Aviarius and the mongels swarmed over the aircraft they had been pursuing.

"There's no sign of them," the birdman reported, after Amy had shut down the hoverjet's engines and exited the vehicle. "While it appears that the aircraft crashed into the tree line, it seems to have done so at low speed. It's almost as if…"

Aviarius whistled to his minions, who quickly began to back-trail the airplane's path, sniffing on the ground. After a few minutes, they found what he was looking for.

"Here!" He crowed in triumph. "They landed the airplane here, exited, then fired up the engine and led it crash into the trees. They must have wanted us to think they had crashed. Amy, what are you looking at?"

"This building," she answered, looking at the nearest wall.

"You think they're in there? The trail leads the other way."

"Oh, they're not in there. The hussy and Monty are too smart to get cornered. No, this building is the last place that DNAmy plied her trade."

"Okay, now I'm confused. Aren't you DN…"

"Don't call me that! Amy's fine but DNAmy is dead and buried. This building," she gestured at the structure. "Is where I was working while you and Monty were trying to steal Stoppable's power. This is where I was trying to create a future for me and Monty while he and that hussy were...were…"

"I get the picture."

"Maybe it's appropriate," Amy mused. "I was a child back then. Sure, I was a brilliant geneticist but emotionally? I wasn't even a teenager, emotionally. It took Monty and the hussy to teach me that brilliance and determination just weren't enough to be happy in this world. Now, we've all come back to the last place DNAmy plied her trade; the last place she worked while believing that someone could overlook the fact that she was dumpy and plain. Now, I've become Miss Go; I've become what those two taught me that I would have to become, in order to rule the criminal world. Did you say that you have the trail?"

"Yes."

"Excellent! Let's go teach those two what happens when you betray a genius."

* * *

Shortly after landing the aircraft and helping his wife to the ground, Monty reached back into the aircraft and restarted the engine. With its last drops of fuel, the airplane skittered across the open ground and plowed into the foliage surrounding the clearing.

"It isn't likely that our pursuers will give up the chase," he commented, hoisting a pack onto his back. "But perhaps they will spend a few minutes deciphering the mystery, while we get farther away."

"I wonder what this building used to be?" Shego wondered, staring at the structure.

"No way of knowing," Monty shrugged. "Shall we be off?"

"Of course…Aaaargh!"

"Okay, you are clearly in distress," Monty demanded. "What's amiss?"

"I'm over eight months pregnant and I've had a rough, stressful day," she snarled back. "Do the math, Einstein!"

"You mean…you're about…you're going…"

"I see you've figured it out! Yes! I'm in labor!"

"This is hardly a convenient time!"

"I know! Why don't you tell you son that?"

"Can't you just…pinch it back?" Monty suggested.

Shego didn't say anything. Her glare answered the question for her.

"Foolish question, wasn't it?" Monty asked.

"Very dumb."

"Shall we go inside? We might be able to find a more appropriate place to…"

"And get cornered?" Shego demanded. "No way! We keep going for as long as we can."

"What if we can't escape our pursuers?"

"Then Amy will find out just what desperate criminals are capable of doing to defend themselves."

Monty simply nodded, scooped his wife into his arms, and loped off into the jungle. For perhaps a quarter of an hour, the two made good progress. Then, they heard a Henchco hoverjet somewhere behind them.

"Let's stop," Shego told him. "I want to hear if that thing stops or not."

The two halted and rested while listening to the distant aircraft. Despite their fervent wishes, the aircraft stopped moving.

"They're setting down," Shego groaned. "I've heard enough of those things hover and land to know what it sounds like. They spotted our plane."

"And they will shortly be on our trail," Monty concluded, lifting his wife again.

This time, Fiske did not travel a straight line. Instead, he used every trick that a lifetime as a field archeologist could teach a person. He doubled back on his trail and used low hanging branches to leave the ground whenever he could. He made use of the small streams that occasionally crossed his path. Several times, he heard pursuit closing in, only to rush off along a false trail he had set. He was exhausted, but he was beginning to hope. If he could evade capture until dawn, perhaps Amy would be less likely to brazenly use her flying minions.

This thought had just lightened his mood when he suddenly found himself surrounded by small, primate shapes.

"Blast it!" Shego snarled. Monty eased her to the ground and assumed a fighting stance. Although it cost her a price in pain, Shego managed to ignite her hands. Much to the couple's surprise, several torches flared to life, revealing that monkeys surrounded them.

"These things don't have wings," Shego noted. "And since when do monkeys use torches?"

Indeed, several of the small primates bore burning branches. In addition, almost all of them carried small staffs with them. By now, Fiske had identified his adversaries as spider monkeys. A large female stepped forwards and although he was terrified, Fiske stepped forward to meet her.

"You!" The Englishman suddenly gasped, recognizing her. He had last seen her at DNAmy's Wyoming ranch. Before that, she had been one of his trained ninja; who had bowed to Ron Stoppable behind the Middleton High gymnasium.

The monkey only snarled in reply and brought her staff up for a blow.

"No!" Fiske pled. "We aren't here to fight you! We're fleeing! My wife is in labor and others are trying to catch us. They want to take our child from us!"

While the monkey couldn't speak a human language, she understood English well enough. She lowered her staff slightly and cocked her head to one side, curiously.

"We think that DNAmy is chasing us," Fiske continued to explain. "I'll admit that I trained you and used you poorly when I was trying to become the monkey master."

Here, the monkey tensed again.

"But she's the one that changed monkeys!" Fiske continued. "She's the one that hurt monkeys to learn how to change herself!"

The monkey looked to a large male, who had once been kept captive in a large building not terribly far away. He still told tales of pain and of other monkeys who hadn't survived the pain. If the false master was telling the truth, if the woman who brought pain was pursuing him, it would be in the tribe's best interest to stay away.

But what would happen if the woman who brought pain got what she wanted? The true master had told the monkey that the evil woman had made herself large and strong, that she had used what she had learned by bringing pain to try to crush all primates. Now, she was pursuing the one with the burning hands. What would happen if the evil woman gained the strength that resided within her?

"Please just let us go," Fiske continued to beg. "We will lead her away from your nests and she will ignore you."

The monkey was only partially listening. She could tell that the woman with the burning hands was close to giving birth. The monkey looked back to the large male. Once her band had taught him the error of his arrogance, he had become a good mate. She looked to her own pup, a smaller monkey who was holding a torch. Could she turn away from another primate who was ready to whelp, when the evil one wanted the pup?

She made a quick decision. Gesturing with her staff, she instructed the false master to pick up his mate and follow her. She then instructed her mate to discover what was pursuing the intruders, before leading the rest of her band back to their settlement.

It took almost an hour for the monkeys to lead the two humans to their huts. While the false master was burdened with his whelping mate, he was fit and strong. He even managed to use some of the monkeys' arboreal pathways along the route. By the time the tribe helped the false master get his mate into the largest hut, some thirty feet above the ground, the leader's mate had returned. He reported that a female human and a flying, male human were leading a band of flying monkeys in pursuit of the two refugees.

The leader called upon her tribe to prepare to fight. They would not allow the evil one to seize this pup! While her mate made preparations, the leader went to her own hut to calm herself. An incident that involved the evil woman, the false master and numerous altered monkeys affected all monkey kind. Forcing herself to breathe slowly and concentrate, she focused on contacting the true master to tell him what was happening.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Again, I must thank everyone for reading, especially considering my very erratic update schedule as of late. As always, my fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his continued, patient beta efforts. Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	31. Rumble in the Jungle

Chapter 31: Rumble in the Jungle

"We're going to the wrong place!"

Ron's sudden declaration snapped Kim out of the light doze she had fallen into.

"What do you mean?" She asked. "Dr. Director told us that Shego's staying at Hue…"

"But she's not there now!" Ron insisted. "She's close to Amy's old lab, in Belize!"

"How can you know this? We're still out of communication!"

"The monkey told me! You know, the same one that clued me in to what Amy was up to, back then?"

"Are you sure of this?"

"She got us to the right place last time, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but this time Global Justice is telling us where to go! Do you really want to take a monkey's word over Global Justice's intelligence, with Hanna at stake?"

"Yes," Ron didn't hesitate to answer. "She contacted me and said that 'the false master' and his 'mate with burning hands' were with them. She said that the 'evil woman who brings pain' and flying monkeys were hunting them."

"Flying monkeys?" Kim gasped. "As in something that might have produced that weird, furry feather we found in Amy's last place?"

"Exactly," Ron nodded. "Not only that, she said that Shego was about to whelp."

"Okay, you convinced me. Let's talk to the pilot."

"But Miss Possible," the Global Justice pilot protested. "I'm under orders to deliver you to Subject 57's last known domicile in Hue…"

"That's the letter of your instructions," Kim countered. "The intent of your instructions are to put us near Shego, so we can recover Hanna Stoppable. We have obtained additional information that tells us that Shego is no longer at her home."

"What sort of information?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it," Kim told him. "I'm certain that you're aware that we occasionally receive information from outside your organization. In fact, this is one of the reasons that Dr. Director makes use of our services."

"That may be the case," the pilot countered. "But I have direct orders to deliver you to Huehuetenango and I'm not about to break them unless I receive further orders."

"You're out of contact with your base!" Ron protested. "It could take hours to get a message through!"

"That's the breaks, kid."

"Why…" Ron's eyes took on a bluish tint as he took a step towards the pilot, only to have Kim restrain him.

"Maybe we can still save this," the redhead suggested, with her hand Ron's chest.

"Good luck with that," the pilot told her. "Orders are orders."

"Let's start with that," Kim smirked. "You said that your orders were to deliver us to the Huehuetenango location. I'm telling you that if you do so, we'll refuse to leave this vehicle."

"What?"

"I don't think you'll be able to force the two of us off, so you'll fail your mission"

"C'mon, give me a break!"

"However, if you were to divert to the location we give you and allow us to investigate our additional information, we'll be happy to comply with your instructions."

"Okay, you've got a deal. Where do you want me to take you?"

"That could be a problem," Kim admitted. "Wait a minute! I have it on my Kimmunicator!"

"Uh, communications are still down," Ron reminded her. "You won't be able to contact Wade."

"No, but he programmed the Kimmunicators to automatically record the exact location every time we call in. I just have to go back through my checkpoints and get the exact latitude and longitude."

"There's still a problem," the pilot pointed out. "The GPS system is down. Even if you give me an exact location, I won't be able to take you to that precise point."

"You can get close enough," Ron reminded him. "Wade said that this aircraft is now using triangulation from airports and commercial radio stations to navigate."

"Yeah, but GPS puts us to within five meters. The triangulation method can have us as much as 500 meters off."

"That will be close enough for us," Ron assured him. "While KP's looking up the exact location, set a course for the three way border between Mexico, Guatemala and Belize. Our target will be within a couple of miles of there. In the meantime, I'll record a message for Wade. He might be able to use this latest information, or at least pass it on to Global Justice."

"Okay, hang on. I'm turning this thing around."

Both teens were too busy to pay much attention to the change of course.

* * *

"Okay, this is interesting," Drew commented, from his workstation.

"What's that?" Dr. Director asked.

"I've set up my computer to filter and forward unusual reports from the Central America region. Since landlines are still functioning I can get the information, even if it isn't immediate."

"Enough about the how," the commander told him. "What is the what?"

"It seems that the Mexican Air Force intercepted a mysterious, jet-powered aircraft crossing their southeast border. They lost it momentarily in a cloud of chaff and flares. They reacquired the target, closed in and got a visual sighting. Apparently, they found themselves pursuing a very cunningly made drone."

"How does that tie into our current situation?"

"The pilots' visual description matches the dummy drone that Henchco installs in its hoverjets…for an upgrade price, of course. They're brilliant devices! Economical, environmentally friendly and with a better than 97% effectiveness and the evasion routing has an over 85% passenger survival rate."

"Drew! This is no time for marketing! What is the significance?"

"I am unaware of any villains in that part of the world making use of Henchco hoverjets. On the other hand, Amy probably used an alias to purchase one."

"So she could have run afoul of the Mexican Air Force and been forced to send them after a false target?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Drew admitted.

"It doesn't add up," Dr. Director shook her head. "Shego's over a hundred miles south of Mexico's southwest border."

"Ah, but I warned Monty that Amy was coming for her," Drew countered. "If the two of them were smart, they fled. Who's to say that they didn't flee north, with Amy in pursuit? If so, it would be just like Shego to leave her pursuers to face an Air Force while she tries to slip away."

"Dr. Director?" Wade's face suddenly appeared on Drakken's workstation. "I've just gotten a recorded message from Kim and Ron. They've received an anonymous tip that Shego is now near…"

"The three way border between Mexico, Guatemala and Belize," Drakken finished for him.

"Well, now I know how Kim and Ron feel whenever I'm a step ahead of them," the boy said, after a long look at the blue-tinted man.

"How old is this information?" Dr. Director asked.

"A little over a half an hour."

"Okay, I'm convinced," Dr. Director told the two technical geniuses. She then stabbed a button at her underling's workstation.

"Operations Center," a voice responded.

"This is Dr. Director," she informed the operations officer. "Prepare my private aircraft and make all international arrangements. I'll need clearance to operate in Mexico, Belize and Guatemala."

"I'm making the arrangements as we speak. You'll be able to depart in ten minutes."

"I'll be ready by then," Drew told her.

"Why do you think you'll be going with me?" She demanded.

"First of all, I could give you the very logical argument that you're dealing with Henchco equipment and I've been designing it long before I became Jack Hench," her underling told her. "I could also give you the very good argument that I've spent years working with Shego, so I'm a logical choice to accompany a mission to rescue her. However, I think I'll stick with the argument that as far as I'm concerned, it's my grandchild that Amy is hunting right now and if I don't go along, you can just forget about my continued cooperation!"

"Okay, you make a point and I owe you this. Grab a spare agents' kit on your way to the hangar."

* * *

"Apparently, there's some sort of settlement up ahead," Aviarius told Amy, after listening to another mongel's report. "There are some sort of tiny huts up in trees. This little lady," he scratched the mongel's back, to the small creature's delight. "Circled down wind and caught the scents of Shego, Monty and a large number of monkeys." The birdman suddenly frowned.

"What's wrong with the report?" Amy asked. "It's pretty obvious that Monty and the hussy have holed up in one of the huts."

"My mongel reported their scent as well as the scents of monkeys…no additional humans. Monkeys don't build huts and Shego and Monty didn't have time to build them."

"Maybe there are natives about," Amy suggested.

"If that were the case, the mongel would have reported additional human scents."

"So maybe those two built this place as a kind of refuge and had the monkeys guarding the place."

"But you said that Monty wasn't a monkeyman any more," Aviarius pointed out.

"So what's the problem?" Amy finally demanded. "You want to settle the score with Monty and I want the hussy's baby! They're both up ahead, with only some monkeys in the area. Not only that, the sun's coming up so your eagle's eyes will be fully functional."

"There's something weird about this situation and I don't want to fly in blind."

"I think you're turning from an eagle to a chicken!"

"You're getting worse than Hego with these puns."

"It doesn't matter," Amy snapped. "Our prey is up ahead. Either we move in now or we risk them escaping. If that happens, I won't get my Team Go DNA. Hmmm, Team Go DNA; I never thought of the rest of the team."

"What's that?"

"Never mind. Let's get what we came for."

"I thought I'd never hear that," Avers grinned, before whistling for his minions.

* * *

"Dear God!" Shego roared, gasping between deep breaths. "I thought…having Amy or…the Princess hand me my…ergh…hurt. How much longer is this gonna last?"

"I honestly don't know," Fiske told his wife, wincing as her grip threatened to crush the bones in his hand. "I've never been present for a birth."

"So I guess…we're both sorta…playing this one by ear."

Shego's comment was drowned out by a cacophony of monkey shrieks from outside the tiny hut. Fiske didn't say word; he simply disengaged his hand from his wife's and crawled to the nearest window. What he saw terrified him: a horde of winged monkeys swarming through the small clearing, breaking into the huts. One such creature suddenly alit upon the wall opposite Fiske and stared in through the window. Upon spotting the Englishman, it let out a loud, high-pitched shriek.

Across the settlement, other winged creatures suddenly turned their attention towards Fiske's hut and converged upon the two humans. The archeologist had only a moment to gape at the winged, primate doom closing upon him before a crude net suddenly engulfed the creature that had originally spotted him. One of Fiske's spider monkey hosts jumped upon the entangled monstrosity and bore it to the ground, pummeling it with a miniature tonfa.

The miniature martial artist stood up from its vanquished opponent but didn't even have a moment's triumph before another flying monkey swooped down and sunk eagle's claws into the defender. The spider monkey dropped to the ground, unmoving, while the winged assailant flapped back into the sky. Another spider monkey rushed to its fallen kinsman but there was nothing the rescuer could do. As it crouched over its dead companion, another winged monkey swooped down from the sky. At the last moment, the tiny mourner spun around and braced an undersized spear on the ground. The plummeting attacker couldn't turn in time and impaled itself upon the weapon.

The two deaths set both groups of combatants into frenzy. In a matter of moments, Fiske's hut was surrounded by a chaotic mass of fur and feathers. The hybrid creatures were relentless, dodging through the forest canopy to swoop with terrifying speed upon their prey. The flying monkeys had eagles' claws which, when given the momentum of a controlled dive, inflicted devastating wounds upon their prey.

Yet the spider monkeys were hardly helpless, they retreated into the cover afforded by the thick canopy, refusing to give their tormentors clear shots. The small primates tossed crude nets, which entangled their attackers and pulled them down from the sky. Once the flying monkeys were on the ground, the spider monkeys struck with the very weapons Fiske had taught his minions to use: staffs and spears, tonfa and nunchucks.

After the first few minutes, and several casualties on both sides, the contest became a grim game of wits. Fiske decided that the spider monkeys must have gained a great deal of experience combating predatory birds. Once the initial burst of violence had abated, the primates set traps for their adversaries. A single monkey would break from one piece of cover and scramble for another. When flying terrors targeted the fleeing monkey, other monkeys suddenly raised nets, braced spears or hurled bolas into the hybrids' path. The flying monstrosities occasionally managed to avoid the ambushes and even managed to pick off the occasional monkey…but these were the exceptions. Most of the time, a carefully set trap resulted in a slain attacker.

"What's happening?" Shego demanded, between painful gasps.

"Our hosts have become our protectors," Fiske informed his wife. "Nightmares have descended upon us, but our hosts seem to have the matter well in hand."

Looking back out the window, Fiske saw that the skilled spider monkeys were wearing down their attackers…until a larger shape stalked into view.

* * *

"Okay, we're here," the pilot reported to Team Possible. "Or at least within 500 meters of where you want to go. It sure doesn't look like there's anything down there."

"It's not supposed to look like there's anything down there," Ron curtly informed the man. "If it was obvious, everyone would be here."

"What my partner is saying," Kim interjected. "Is that our quarry is probably trying to stay out of site."

"I guess that makes sense," the pilot shrugged. "The jungle's too thick to set down."

"We can rappel into the branches," Ron told him. "We'll climb down from there. Do you have some sort of radio that we can use to talk directly to you?"

"There's a compartment full of 'em right next to the hatch," the pilot told him. "I'll circle a little bit and see if I can find a clearing nearby. Let me know when you decide that this little detour is a waste of time."

Kim growled at the pilot's attitude but grabbed a couple of radios and followed Ron down a rope and into the branches. Both teens were very agile, so they quickly found themselves on the ground. The rope retracted into the aircraft and the hoverjet slowly drifted away.

"_When_ we realize it's a waste of time," Ron grumbled. "Can't he understand that we know what where doing?"

"Never mind," Kim chided him. "At least he got us here…wait! What's that noise?"

"A major monkey brawl!" Ron told her, after listening to muted shrieks. "As in a band of monkeys fighting something!"

"As in we know where we need to be!" Kim added.

"Exactly! This jungle's too thick to run through. Hop on my back and I'll take us through the branches."

"You really think you can carry me faster than I can move?" Kim snapped back, somewhat indignantly. "Just try to keep up!"

With that, the redhead leapt nimbly into the branches and rushed towards the sounds of combat. Ron shook his head and followed suit, determined to catch her before she reached the fighting.

* * *

"The house is empty," one of his team told Agent Du. "But it certainly looks like there's been some sort of violent confrontation."

"I can see that!" Will ground his teeth, then forced himself to take a deep breath. He could hardly blame his team for reporting their findings. "Very well," he said. "We'll have to contact the local authorities. Let's go."

While flying a hoverjet over a city wasn't very discrete, Du had to admit that it leant him a certain authority. Had he simply walked into the Huehuetenango police station, declared that he was a Global Justice Agent and demanded that they tell him what they knew about any violent incidents at the address in question, things wouldn't have gone well. He would have probably been either thrown in a drunk tank or tossed out onto the street.

However, the police chief took one look at the high-tech aircraft and contacted the national police office. The national police quickly informed him that Global Justice did, in fact, exist and instructed the local man to forward any cooperation possible. Unfortunately, the only thing he could really report was that neighbors had reported loud noises and that three people had been dropped off at the hospital. After this, the police chief accompanied the agent to the medical institution, partly to be polite and partly because he really wanted to ride in a hoverjet.

With the chief present, Du was able to visit the three men, who had been recovered from the Fiskes' home. Unfortunately, the men were still sedated and terrified. Only one of them could speak and he kept saying that he had been attacked by the devil himself…who spoke English with an American accent. Du decided that this wasn't his problem (even though he didn't envy the U.S. Secretary of State's efforts to explain _that_ particular bit of information).

Instead, he decided to return to the hoverjet to try the spotty communication systems and attempt to report the situation to his superiors. Outside the hospital, he and the chief found the GJ crew confronting a very elderly gentleman, who was accompanied by a small band of very tough looking men.

"Chief Urruela," the old man greeted the police chief. "I understand that these Americans have shown up and asked questions about my missing employees."

"Indeed, Mr. Arbenz," the chief responded. "I should have guessed that you would learn of such things."

"If it isn't too much trouble, perhaps their leader here and I could have a private conversation. I don't think that anyone wants a confrontation between some sort of international agency and my…_technical staff_."

"I always prefer the peaceful solution," the chief assured him.

"Very well," the old man turned to Du. "Young man, if you will be kind enough to tell your associates to relax, perhaps the two of us can exchange some information that will benefit us both."

"Perhaps," Du nodded, before turning to his team. "Don't _start_ anything," he told them. His team immediately understood what he meant. "Mr. Arbenz," he returned his attention to the elderly gentleman. "I am at your disposal."

"Very good, young man," the elder smiled, gesturing for Du to accompany him a short distance away, to where a couple of chairs sat in a tree's shade. The old man seemed both amused and impressed that the younger man waited for him to be seated.

Once both men were seated, the older man spoke. "Young man, I employ Mr. and Mrs. Fiske. Not only have they disappeared but also more of my employees, whom I sent to check on the couple, have been severely injured. In my business, I cannot simply call the proper authorities when one of my employees is attacked. Do you understand me?"

"I think I do."

"Good. I hope that you can understand that since I cannot simply call the police, I must deal with such incidents personally. The first thing that I must do is to locate the proper target for my wrath. So, I hope that you can understand when an outsider shows up, looking into this sad incident, it catches my attention. Since you arrived so quickly, I am forced to wonder if you are responding to this attack or were supposed to be a part of it."

"We're not…" Du began.

"Please let me finish," the old man interrupted. "I will ask you some questions and depending upon the answers, I will either become a helpful friend or a terrible foe. Answer me truthfully, how do you know this couple?"

"Professionally," Du answered, without a moment's hesitation. "I won't deny that my organization has found itself at odds with both of them in the past. However, both played a key role in defeating Warrick Loward's attempt to subdue the world. We repay our debts, so we allowed the two to live without our interference…as long as they kept their activities local and discrete."

"I understand repaying your debts," Mr. Arbenz nodded. "However, this does not explain how and why you arrived here so quickly after this happened."

"I'm not privy to all of the information," Du admitted. "All I know is that I was deployed to South America…I won't tell you exactly where or why…when my superior contacted me and ordered me to this location."

"And what did he tell you to do?"

"My superior is a woman," Du corrected the man. "And I'll give you some information that isn't exactly confidential. In the past twenty-four hours, a techno-villain attacked the family of someone who has done several favors for my agency. Although investigating this attack was not within my agency's jurisdiction, my superior assisted, indebted by our benefactor's previous assistance."

Mr. Arbenz nodded. He understood repaying debts.

"During this investigation, my agency identified the assailant and found clues suggesting that she was preparing to move against your employees' unborn child. As I said before, Fiske and his wife helped us in the past, so my agency both attempted to warn them and diverted me to their home."

"I believe you," the old man told the agent, after thinking for a few moments. "So I will tell you what I know. Fiske and Shego escaped their home and stole one of my aircraft from a clandestine airstrip. According to the guard, who Fiske overpowered and restrained, a man with a bird's wings and claws was pursuing the couple. A large flock of winged flying monkeys accompanied this man. I was about to have my guard beaten for telling such a ridiculous story but it seemed to support the tale spun by the men I sent to check on Fiske's and Shego's home. The fact that you are not laughing at the report makes me believe that you consider it possible."

"I do," Du nodded. "The villain who attacked our friend manipulates bodies, mixing creatures' genetics to form bizarre hybrids. We believe that she is working with another techno-villain, who idolizes birds. I believe that he would willingly undergo such a transformation."

"Ah, since you were kind enough to let me know that my employees are neither liars nor insane, I shall provide you with the last information that I have learned. Some of the merchandise I sell has a great deal of value and very little mass. I prefer to move such merchandise by air but, in the past, I had problems with my pilots flying to destinations other than those I gave them, selling the cargo and fleeing with the cash. Fiske himself helped me install…what did he call them…transponders in my aircraft and in my many places of business, inside this nation. With these transponders in place, we were able to track down and educate a couple of would-be thieves. While the current, worldwide communication difficulties prevent me from tracking my aircraft in real time, I am capable of re-creating their paths. The Fiske's aircraft flew to the northeast, towards the three-way border between Guatemala, Belize and Mexico. I cannot tell you more than this."

"This is golden information!" Du assured the man, leaping to his feet. "I apologize for being rude, but I must act immediately."

"I understand, young man, but I demand payment for such information."

"And what is your price?" Du asked.

"That you take appropriate action when you catch whomever attacked my employees," Mr. Arbenz told the younger man, as he handed Du a business card. "Contact me with anything you learn. Should someone attack my employees and not be punished for doing so, my rivals will sense weakness and strike me. I must make sure that everyone knows the price to be paid for crossing me."

"I understand," Du accepted the card.

"Then go!"

Du turned and ran for his team, yelling at the pilot to set course to the northeast.

* * *

"What's going on?" Amy demanded, after one of the mongels gave her underling a hurried report.

"It seems that the monkeys are putting up an effective resistance," Aviarius informed her. "They're using weapons and actually getting the better of the mongels. Fiske might not be a monkeyman anymore, but he still has monkey ninjas serving him."

"It doesn't matter," Amy snapped. "It's time we went in there and took care of things!"

The petite woman didn't wait for a reply. She simply stormed forward and into a maelstrom of fur, feathers, claws and teeth. A spider monkey tossed a net upon her but she simply tore it apart with her enhanced strength. Smirking at the startled looking primate, Amy picked up a stone and hurled it, not at the monkey but at the branch it was perched upon. Rock shattered wood, forcing the monkey to leap for another branch.

The few moments it was in the open air was all the flock of mongels needed. Two of the flying horrors swooped out of the sky and buried their talons in the terrified monkey. Amy didn't spare a second glance. Now that she could see the huts, she simply picked out the largest one and set her course towards it. The spider monkeys attempted to stop her, throwing nets and spears at her. Whenever they did so, Amy caught the weapons and hurled them back. While the agile monkeys easily evaded the returning weapons, they were forced into the open in order to dodge. This made them easy targets for the swift mongels. The flying primates rallied around their creator, striking down the monkeys that she forced to flee. Continuing her relentless course, Amy couldn't help but smile when she saw a familiar, once beloved face staring at her from the hut's small window.

* * *

"Now what's happening?" Shego demanded, gasping in pain on the hut's floor.

"I believe that Amy has made her appearance," Fiske answered, as he crawled towards the door. "She actually looks a great deal like you and she has given herself some additional capabilities. The monkeys cannot handle both her and the flying horrors she created."

"So where are you going! If you're gonna run away and leave me here…"

"I am not fleeing!" Fiske snapped back. "I have to face her! The monkeys cannot deal with her but perhaps I can. If I don't come back…tell our child that I met my end with more honor than I lived my life."

The situation's urgency didn't give Fiske the luxury of a more sentimental farewell. He simply crawled out of the hut's door.

"Amy!" He roared at the oncoming villain. "Your quarrel is with me! Leave the monkeys and face…"

The barest perception of motion, out of the corner of his eye, gave the archeologist just enough time to dodge. A large, winged figure barreled through the space Fiske had just vacated. As it was, Monty took a painful slash across his upper back. Rolling onto his back, he looked up to see his assailant sweep up into the sky before wheeling around for another dive. Fiske scrambled along his branch, diving around the tree's trunk at the last moment. Figuring that his opponent would expect him to drop to the ground, Fiske chose to climb higher into the tree.

"What's wrong, Monty?" A high pitched, but somewhat familiar, voice taunted him. "Aren't you glad to see your old partner?"

"Who are you?" Fiske demanded, scrambling higher into the branches.

"Can't you guess?" The winged figure spat back. "We were partners! You promised me power but left me to rot in prison!"

"Aviarius?" Fiske gasped. "What happened to you?"

"Amy happened to me! While you were gallivanting around the world, I was sitting in prison! While you were living the life of a criminal enforcer and bedding Shego, Amy got me out of prison and gave me this new body…the body I would use to gain my revenge!"

Aviarius punctuated his statement by diving upon his prey, once again. Fiske was forced to scramble for cover, climbing higher into the canopy.

"What could I do?" He demanded of his tormentor. "I spent over a month in a stupor, not even knowing where I was at! After that, I had to help Shego rescue Drakken. After that, your benefactor teamed with Warrick Loward to crush civilization…"

"Excuses!" Aviarius spat, struggling to regain altitude. "I met my terms of the bargain, even though that blasted half-pint, Dementor, wanted to bail out. I gave you Stoppable's Mystical Monkey Power, or whatever you want to call it! In return, you were supposed to serve me Team Go's powers on a silver platter!"

"I could hardly approach you!" Fiske protested. The Englishman stumbled upon a mongel and a monkey, locked in combat. He landed a knife-hand strike on the hybrid's neck, deciding the matter. The monkey scrambled off to assist its pack while Fiske continued to attempt to reason with his tormentor. "My duties here took up my time to the point I couldn't…"

"That didn't stop you from busting me out of the joint in Minnesota!" Aviarius shrieked back, now above the forest canopy. He glared into the foliage, trying to spot his quarry. "Of course, that was when you needed something, wasn't it? Once you got what you wanted, I didn't matter any more, did I?"

"What was I to do?" Fiske's voice sounded from inside the greenery. "I was trying to track down Dr. Drakken."

"Who hadn't done anything for you!" The shriek echoed in the skies above the jungle. "We were partners! Yet you couldn't take time out from your hunt for Shego's old boss to live up to your side of the bargain! You abandoned me but Amy didn't! Isn't it ironic, Fiske? The last time we saw each other, you were a mutated monkey-freak and I was a bird-loving wannabe. Now, I'm the enhanced one and you're cowering in fear!"

"So what happens after this little venture!" Fiske demanded, desperate to find any sort of weakness. "What has she given you other than a mutated body? You can hardly go back to the world as you are."

"The world never gave a damn about me before the change," Aviarius answered, while gliding a little closer to where he thought his quarry was hiding. "So I really won't miss the ridicule and abuse. As for what she gave me, she gave me you! She gave me revenge! It was a fair bargain. She knew that you'd try to protect your brat and your lady so she gave me the means to eliminate you while she took what she wanted!"

Fiske gasped in horror, realizing that his adversary had managed to force him farther and farther from his wife's side.

"You can't help her and you can't beat me, Fiske!" Aviarius gloated, now very close to the Englishman. "Amy gets the genetics she wants and I'm gonna send you straight to hell! After Amy gets the brat, I'll get whatever's left of your precious Shego."

The birdman's gloating stopped abruptly when his target suddenly burst from the canopy, scant feet away. Heedless of the forty-foot drop beneath them, the former archaeologist leapt from a heaving branch, directly at the shocked birdman. Avaiarius got one of his feet between himself and the oncoming assailant, scoring a slice across Fiske's chest. It didn't slow the former monkeyman. Fiske slammed into Aviarius, grappling the birdman as his attack's momentum sent them cartwheeling across the sky.

"If you're going to send me to Hell," Fiske hissed to his opponent, as they began to plummet towards the ground. "I insist you come with me."

* * *

Amy knew a moment's concern when Monty emerged from the hut. While she was ready for anything, her former lover was dangerously clever and inventive. She needn't have worried. Fiske had no sooner issued his challenge than Aviarius swept from the sky. Although Fiske avoided the attack, the ensuing game of cat and mouse…or was it eagle and mouse…drove the combatants away from the hut.

Amy smiled; Fiske was out of the way and the few remaining monkeys were engaged with the mongels. The fact that Shego hadn't made an appearance suggested that the hussy was either in labor or her pregnancy was preventing her from taking an active role in her own defense. There had been some flaws in the planning and execution but it had all worked out in the end. Shego was scant feet away, her baby ripe for the taking. The enhanced villainess reached for a branch to pull herself up to the hut.

Only to be suddenly seized from behind and thrown away from the tree! Amy's body included a viper's lighting fast reflexes and a simian's dense musculature, so she was able to roll with the throw, gaining her feet with no damage. She spun to confront her latest assailant and her eyes grew wide when she saw a very grim-faced Ron Stoppable, backed by an equally angry Kim Possible.

Stoppable's eyes glowed blue as he stalked forward with a growl.

"Where's Hanna?"

* * *

_A/N:_

_Thanks for staying patient. Real life has been on me lately but I hope to update more regularly, now. _

_As always, my thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his continued Beta assistance._

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	32. Jungle Rumble, Part 2

Chapter 32: Jungle Rumble, Part 2

Even with his physical abilities enhanced by the MMP, Ron had a difficult time catching Kim. Still, fear and rage did the trick: Fear of Kim rushing headlong into whatever melee was taking place and rage at Amy for taking Hanna. The sounds of monkeys fighting started to spread and fade, as if the fight was moving away and scattering. Forcing himself to move even faster, Ron pulled even with the redhead just as he spotted Miss Go approaching some tree-built huts. Although Ron was trained as a ninja and his foe was unaware of his approach, he didn't dare eliminate her just yet; he had to force her to give up Hanna's location. Instead of delivering a killing blow, Ron threw her away from the tree.

Despite the situation, Ron was impressed. Amy managed to tumble gracefully and regain her feet. In the past, the blonde boy would have pointed out that his foe was in an impossible situation and should give up. Enraged, he simply demanded Hanna's location.

"She's mine now!" Amy snapped back, stalking forward to meet the blonde boy.

"Give her back to me!" Ron demanded, gliding forward to confront her.

"Can you give Warrick back to me?" Amy shrieked. "I won't harm your sister, which is more than you can say about my lover. You think you can stop me? You can't! Just take your little redheaded tart and leave!"

"Amy, what has happened to you?" Kim asked, hoping to avoid a violent confrontation. "World domination? Kidnapping? Assault? That's not the way you used to operate."

"That's not the way _DNAmy_ operated," the villain spat back. "DNAmy's gone, gone forever! She died in Wyoming, when she realized that the world doesn't care about genius and ability. The only things this world understands are force, ruthlessness and looks. That's why I left DNAmy behind! Nobody took a dumpy, but brilliant, geneticist seriously! When I became Warmonga, the world respected me!"

"The world _feared _you," Kim countered. "The world rose up to fight you! Is that what you want? Do you want the world to fear and hate you?"

"Fear and hate are better than indifference! Do you know what it's like to be ignored, just because you aren't stylish and attractive? Do you know what it's like to devote your life to someone, only to have him leave you because someone else is prettier?"

"I…" Kim began.

"No you haven't!" Amy roared. Gaining control of her temper, she continued, in a sickeningly sweet tone. "You're a media darling! Sure, you have a couple of hacks trying to cut you down to get a story but they're the exceptions! How many times have you executed a flawless cheerleading routine, only to have the fans laugh at you because you're unsightly? Never! How many times have you saved the world, only to have all of the reporters mock your wardrobe or weight? It's never happened, has it? I'm probably the greatest geneticist that has ever walked the Earth but what did that get me? Did it get me the man I loved? No! It got me betrayal and a lonely teaching position! Sure, whenever anybody wanted something done, I was a prime commodity but when my job was over I was back to being ignored. You can't even comprehend that, can you Possible?"

"She can't, but I can," Ron interrupted her. "_I_ know what it feels like but I didn't take your road. I didn't kidnap a child; I didn't try to take over the world. But we've wasted enough time talking! Give me Hanna…NOW!"

"You don't get it, do you?" Amy sneered. "I'm through bowing down to anybody! Get out of my way, boy!"

Amy didn't charge the teens as much as she simply set a course towards the hut's tree, which put Kim and Ron in her path, and strode purposefully forward. Ron roared in anger, pounded his fists upon the ground then pounded his own chest before leaping forward to meet her. Kim held back, allowing Ron to deal with the woman who had attacked his family.

Ron charged forward like a linebacker tackling a running back. Amy extended both of her hands and as they made contact with the blonde's shoulders, tensed her torso muscles, releasing her shock. To her dismay, her assailant didn't collapse. He flinched slightly but continued forward, tackling the villain.

"Your shock won't work," Ron snarled. "You used it on my mother but I'm ready for it. You can't win, so just give up and hand over my sister."

"I'm not through yet," Amy replied, through clenched teeth. She got her feet between herself and the boy and kicked out with her enhanced strength.

Ron was sent flying but he managed to twist in mid-air and land on his feet. By the time he touched down, Amy had also regained her feet.

"I tried," Ron declared, looking to the sky. "I gave her every chance." Turning back to the geneticist, he told her, "This is your choice, Amy. The kid gloves are officially off!"

This time, Ron charged his quarry like a galloping ape, running on his hands and feet. Amy was hardly a helpless target: As the boy closed in, she lashed out, her fists as quick as striking rattlesnakes.

Ron, however, dodged her strikes. She continued to punch and kick, but the blonde boy responded with subtle parries and dodges. Her powerful hands and feet always seemed to miss the boy by a mere hair's breadth. Enraged, Amy continued to flail at him, always barely missing.

Kim suddenly understood Ron's actions. He didn't want to risk inflicting a serious injury upon Amy, at least not until she gave up Hanna's location. Instead, he was goading her into exhausting herself. While Amy was extremely strong and had picked up some skill, she wasn't experienced enough to realize that she was wearing herself out. In addition, that enhanced strength came with a price…endurance. Her body simply didn't have the heart and lung capacity to maintain her extreme output for very long.

As Kim watched, Amy began to gasp for breath. Her motions became clumsier and more sluggish. Instead of gliding over the uneven ground in her pursuit of her blonde tormentor, Amy began to trudge then stumble. Finally, she hurled herself in a last, desperate attempt to come to grips with her opponent. Ron sidestepped, causing the woman to sprawl face first on the damp, jungle floor. Ron was on top of her in a moment.

The blonde seized one of Amy's arms and twisted it behind her in a hammerlock. He hooked one of his legs around hers; thwarting any effort she could make to regain her feet. Seeing that her fiancé had things in hand, Kim pulled out the Global Justice communicator and called the aircraft.

"What can I do for you, Miss Possible?" The pilot responded.

"We've found one of the hostiles," Kim responded. "And we suspect that our subjects are nearby."

"Excellent," the voice announced over the speaker. "I'll home in on your radio and be overhead shortly."

"Can you report this development to your headquarters?"

"Unfortunately, no. The satellite communication system is still messed up, although I'm getting a line-of-site, IFF signal at extreme range. I'll request a message relay, but I can't guarantee anything."

"I understand," Kim sighed. "We're on our own for a little while."

The redhead clipped the radio to her belt and returned her attention to the confrontation.

"Where's Hanna?" Ron demanded, through gritted teeth. "You're not getting away from me until I get my sister back!"

"She's safe," Amy gasped. "I'll make a deal with you. Let me go. Let me take Shego's child and let Aviarius deal with Fiske. After that, I'll take some simple tissue samples from your sister and then you can have her."

"Aviarius, Monty and Shego are here?" Kim asked. "Where?"

"Aviarius is off settling a personal vendetta with Fiske," Amy replied. "I don't expect to see Fiske coming back from the confrontation. As for Shego…"

A loud burst of painful profanity burst from a tree-bound hut, informing Kim and Ron where Shego was located.

"Apparently, Shego's giving birth," Amy told them. "I want that child."

"Not happening," Ron growled, starting to twist Amy's arm a little.

"Oh, so noble," she sneered in response. "What has Fiske or that Hussy ever done for you? You'll risk your lives…you'll risk your sister's life to save them?"

"I don't think we're risking anything," Ron retorted. "You're in no position to make demands."

A high pitched whine sounded overhead. All three looked up and caught broken glimpses of a Global Justice Hoverjet taking station somewhere above the thick canopy. Unfortunately for Team Possible a branch, either rotten or weakened by the wild melee, broke under the vehicle's exhaust and fell on top of Kim. The redhead tried to dive out of its path but the limb was too large. While she avoided the trunk, and injury, the lighter branches immobilized her.

"Kim!" Ron shouted, unaware that he was relaxing his hold on his opponent.

Amy saw her chance and played the last trick she had. The reptile DNA she had incorporated into her new body did more than provide her with fast reflexes. Amy forced her arm out of the distracted man's grip and rolled onto her back. Ron turned back to her, leaving them almost nose to nose. Peeling her lips back from her teeth, Amy flexed muscles in her face and forced venom, identical to a spitting cobra's, out of her incisors. The venom caught Ron directly in his eyes.

Reflexively, Ron covered his eyes and yelled in pain. Amy coiled her body and delivered a double kick right into his belly, sending him sprawling. The blonde gasped for breath as the villain regained her feet and staggered towards him.

* * *

Fiske and Aviarius tore at each other as they plunged through the canopy. Somewhat to the Englishman's disappointment, they didn't plummet directly to the ground. Instead, they tumbled through the thick foliage, bouncing off of the larger limbs while vines and smaller branches slashed at their bodies. Rather than a single, body-breaking impact upon the ground, the two endured a series of battering blows delivered by the foliage…and by each other.

Fiske managed to get his legs up between himself and his adversary, so that Aviarius inflicted deep lacerations on his shins instead of disemboweling him. At the same time, the archeologist unleashed a series of powerful elbows upon his opponent's head and chest. The entangled pair broke out of the canopy scant feet above the ground. With a desperate twist, Fiske wrenched Aviarius underneath him, so that he landed on top of the birdman. The breath whooshed out of Aviarius's lungs.

Fiske gave the man no respite. He latched one hand onto the stunned man's collar and hammered his other fist into his face. Although stunned, Aviarius slipped one of his clawed feet free and clamped it onto the side of Fiske's head One of his claws made contact with Fiske's eye.

"Stop," Aviarius ordered, in a weak voice. "Or I'll gouge out your eye."

"Fool!" Fiske spat back, hitting his opponent yet again. "I was ready to die! Do you really think losing an eye is going to stop me?"

* * *

Kim screamed in protest and struggled to free herself from the foliage but she knew she was going to be too late. Amy had a free shot on Ron and wasn't about to simply incapacitate the man. The petite woman appeared much larger than she actually was as she stood over her fallen foe, with her foot above his neck. Suddenly, a furious bundle of fur exploded upon her.

Almost two years earlier, Ron Stoppable accepted his role as the ultimate monkey master. The first of his subjects to acknowledge his authority had been one of Fiske's trained monkeys. Instead of compelling the small primate to attack her former master, Ron had simply instructed her to leave in peace. He had later arranged to have her sent to Belize, where her fighting skills quickly put her in control of a local band of her own kind. Later, when Amy began to conduct experiments on monkeys, she had informed her master, who immediately moved to halt the atrocities. In the ensuing confrontations, Ron had always treated his subjects with compassion and respect…not as battle fodder. His first subject never forgot this important difference between the true monkey master and the false master she had once served.

She also remembered that the true master was on his way to help, so when the fight with the flying monstrosities wound away from her settlement, she broke away from the melee and slipped back to the huts. She arrived just in time to see a terrible foe strike down her master with a vicious trick. Somehow, she knew that she couldn't defeat this foe but that her master could…if she could buy him a few moments to recover. She dropped to the ground, near a watering hole, and scooped up a paw full of mud.

Rushing back to the fight, she arrived just as the villain was about to kill the master. The monkey leapt at the monster, flinging the mud directly into her eyes. Two could play the blinding game!

Amy stumbled back from Stoppable and flailed her arms in rage and pain. More by luck than intent, she managed to strike the attacking monkey, sending the small creature flying into a tree trunk with bone-breaking force. The primate fell limply to the ground but Amy had more problems, she had lost track of where she was in relation to Stoppable.

"Ron, get up!" Kim urged, still trying to free herself from the fallen branch. Hope surged in her heart when the young man heaved himself to his knees.

"KP?" He groaned. "Where are you? I can't see."

"I don't think Amy can either," she replied. "So be quiet, I'll tell you where to go."

"I can't see yet," the geneticist snarled, lashing out with a fist and tearing a chunk of wood off of a tree trunk. "Blast it! Venom wasn't the only serpent trait I gave myself. I gave myself a pit viper's heat sense."

"What?" Kim gasped, praying that Amy would fall into the villain's habit of wasting time by gloating over her genius.

"Oh yes! The biologic engineering was most challenging." Amy suddenly lashed out again, punching a sun-drenched rock next to Ron.

"Okay, I didn't get it perfect," Amy continued, as Ron rolled away from the angry villain. "But I overcame almost insurmountable obstacles." She barked out a disdainful laugh, "Hanna complained about my cold face. How could she have known that I invested a great deal of time and biologic infrastructure to keep my face cold? If my face were warm, it would blind my heat sense with my own body heat."

She suddenly lunged forward again, this time tearing into a bush. "However, I don't have very much definition to my images," she admitted, while detangling herself from the bush's thorny branches. "It doesn't matter. Eventually, I'll find the right source and finish the two of you off. After that, I'll take what I came for and be on my way."

* * *

Fiske struck again and Aviarius followed through on his threat. Searing pain tore through Monty's face but it only spurred him into a violent frenzy. Fiske pounded on his foe over and over again; continuing his relentless assault even after the man went completely limp. A small hand on his shoulder finally stopped him.

Fiske spun around, ready to face another foe, only to be confronted by a large, male spider monkey. Through the thick canopy, he could see the surviving flying monkeys fleeing in terror. The remaining spider monkeys quickly converged upon his location. The one who had halted his assault (Fiske now recognized him as the male he had seen before, in Wyoming) placed a hand on Aviarius's throat. After a moment, he uttered a series of whistles and howls. A pair of monkeys scampered down from the trees and began to restrain Aviarius, using crude, vine ropes. The large male returned his attention to Fiske and pointed into the jungle.

"What?" Monty demanded.

The monkey mimicked a parent cradling a child and pointed again.

"Oh dear heavens!" Fiske exclaimed. "Shego's alone!"

* * *

Ron stumbled to his feet and summoned the Lotus blade. He willed it into its staff form and began to twirl it very slowly. Kim realized what he was doing; he was trying to generate a breeze and disperse his body heat. Kim looked around at the small patches of sunlight that penetrated the canopy to warm the forest floor. These patches of relative warmth were what Amy was tracking. If they could only make such a patch move, it would probably draw Amy's attention and let them set up a trap. Unfortunately, they didn't have a heat source…"

"Ron!" She hissed, hoping that Amy couldn't hear her. "Take two steps to your left and get ready." Kim pulled her Kimmunicator out of its pouch and keyed the call button.

"KP?" Ron hissed back. "What are you doing?

"Trust me!" She begged, while praying that the worldwide communication system was still on the fritz and that Wade wasn't kidding about the Kimmunicator overheating.

Amy suddenly stared in her direction. Was the geneticist looking at Kim? Now Amy started to stalk towards the trapped redhead, trying to move quietly. She was now too close for Kim to risk speaking to Ron, so Kim closed her eyes and tossed the Kimmunicator at a point right in front of Ron.

Kim's eyes weren't open, so she didn't see Amy suddenly stare at the moving, overheating Kimmunicator. Kim did, however, hear Amy's shout of triumph and the sound of the Kimmunicator's tough plastic shattering under a powerful blow.

Kim opened her eyes just in time to see her fiancé blindly swing his staff towards the sounds he had just heard. It wasn't a skillful blow; the staff struck Amy's side, just below her ribs. Still, it was powerful enough to stagger the enhanced villain and make her gasp in pain. Ron followed the swing with a much more skillful thrust, which caught his opponent low on her belly. Still blind, but with a better grip on Amy's location, Ron twirled the staff and struck her chin with an up-strike. The blow lifted Amy into the air and deposited her, unmoving, on her back. Ron stalked forward, using the staff as a cane, trying to locate his opponent.

"Ron, she's down and out," Kim told him.

"I'll make sure of it this time," he snarled back.

"Ron, no!"

"Why not? She was going to kill us!"

"She knows where Hanna's at!"

THAT stopped Ron cold. "What do I do?" He asked.

"Get me out from under this branch," Kim told him. "Then we'll take care of your eyes, tie her up and see what we can do about Shego and Monty."

"And the monkeys," Ron added, stumbling towards his fiancé. "Don't forget the monkeys."

"I won't forget the monkeys," Kim replied, deciding to wait until after she was free to tell him about the monkey that sacrificed itself to save him.

Ron formed the Lotus Blade into a saw and with Kim's instructions, was able to free her very quickly. As soon as the redhead was mobile, she sat the blonde down and rinsed out his eyes with a water bottle. While Ron was still in pain, his vision came back, if a little blurry, by the time she was finished.

"Okay," Kim said, once she was finished with Ron's eyes. "Now let's deal with Amy."

* * *

Fiske staggered in the direction the monkey had indicated, as fast as his wounds would allow him to travel. The accompanying monkeys quickly overtook him and kept him on the proper course. Before long, he was back at the large hut. Nearby, he saw Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable, restraining Amy with a series of plastic wraps.

"Monty!" Kim gasped, upon seeing him. "You're a mess!"

"I've seen you look better, yourself," Fiske moaned in reply. "Is Shego well?"

"We've heard her shrieking out language that I don't approve of…off of the football field," Ron told him.

Pained profanity burst from the hut, informing Fiske that his wife was, indeed, as well as could be expected.

"Help me," Fiske begged the teens. "I know nothing about delivering children."

"Neither do I," Kim countered.

"I can help with this," a voice announced, from above them.

Kim, Ron and Monty looked up to see Dr. Director rappelling out of the jungle canopy. Dr. Drakken broke into view a moment later, struggling to follow his superior. Moments later, Will Du appeared, leading three more Global Justice agents.

"You've attended births?" Fiske asked the commander, doubt evident in his tone.

"I've attended training," the one-eyed woman told him. "As have all of my senior agents. If you have anyone more qualified nearby, I'll be happy to step aside."

"You make your point. Please help my wife."

"In a moment. I see that you have captured Amy. Our intelligence indicated that Aviarius was with her. Have you found him?"

"He's a short distance that way," Fiske replied, pointing into the jungle.

"You two," Dr. Director pointed to two of Du's agents. "Go get him. Restrain him and bring him back here."

"Yes ma'am," they replied.

"Wait a minute," Ron instructed. He howled into the jungle. In response, two monkeys appeared out of the canopy. "These two monkeys will lead you to him."

The monkeys, followed by the agents, hustled away. The remainder of the monkeys remained hidden.

"Lord Fiske," Dr. Director continued. "It is only appropriate that you attend your child's birth. Accompany me into the hut. I will attend to your wounds while we assist your wife. You," she pointed to the last agent. "Guard Amy until we're ready to transport her to an incarceration facility."

"Wait a minute!" Ron protested. "What about Hanna? Does anyone have an idea where she's at?"

"We spotted Amy's aircraft in a clearing two miles to the east," Dr. Director told him. "Agent Du, while I'm seeing to Shego and Lord Fiske, accompany Team Possible to the aircraft and check it for hostages. Drew, it's a Henchco aircraft, so go with them."

"I want to check on Shego," Dr. Drakken protested. "I came all this way for her, so I…"

"Dear God!" Shego's voice roared from the hut. "Somebody's gonna pay for putting me through this!"

"Perhaps after she calms down a bit," Drew decided. "To the aircraft it is."

Despite Ron's vision problems, the foursome made good time through the jungle, reaching the clearing in roughly half of an hour. They quickly spotted the hoverjet.

"Stand back," Agent Du told the rest. "I'll go in first. All three of you have skills that I don't, so I'm the best candidate for cannon fodder."

After Du left them a safe distance from the aircraft, Kim whispered to the other two, "He's really changed his attitude." Drew and Ron could only nod.

As they watched, Du scanned the vehicle with some sort of instrument he wore on his wrist. Satisfied with what he read, he opened the rear hatch and climbed inside. Moments later, he rushed back out with a terrified expression on his face.

"What is it?" Kim demanded, as she, Ron and Drew rushed to the trembling agent.

"Was it Hanna?" Ron demanded. "Did she do something to Hanna?"

"I didn't see the girl," Du forced out, between gags. "There's some sort of chamber in there that I couldn't unlock. The whole cargo hold is covered with some kind of vomit. It's disgusting!"

Ron and Kim rushed into the aircraft and quickly found the locked chamber that Du couldn't open. Sure, the smell wasn't pleasant but neither was worried about that.

"Hanna!" Ron roared, pounding on the locked door. "Are you in there?"

Muffled knocking was his only reply.

"How can you two stand the stench?" Drew demanded, sticking his head into the aircraft and turning slightly green.

Kim and Ron both looked at him with odd expressions. "You've never changed a diaper, have you?" Kim asked.

"No, what does that have to do with it?"

"Never mind," Ron interrupted. "Can you open this door?"

"It's a voice recognition door," Drew announced, after tiptoeing through the Mongel vomit and reaching the barrier. "It's programmed to only open when certain voices say certain phrases."

"So you can't open it," Ron interpreted, while willing the Lotus Blade into an axe. "I didn't want to do this but I have to get Hanna out of there."

"Wait!" Drew interrupted the young man. "I didn't say that I couldn't open it. I program back doors into most of my products."

"Back doors?" Kim raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, I'm a crook," Drew shrugged. "So I never know when I'm going to have to double-cross somebody. I program all of my voice recognition doors to open when I say a certain phrase."

"Which is…?" Kim prompted.

"And Snowman Hank wanted to share with the world, all the love he had inside." Drew quoted. "So he spread his arms, raised his voice and all the doors flew open wide."

The door sprang open to reveal…

"Hanna!" Ron yelled, in relief.

"Ron!" The little girl launched herself into her older brother's arms. Both Stoppable siblings began to weep.

"Your back door is a Snowman Hank saying?" Kim asked her one-time nemesis, blinking back tears of her own.

"Snowman Hank's Worldwide Christmas, it's a true classic," Drew sniffed. "But can we discuss this away from all this vomit?"

"We can do better," Kim told him, resting a hand on her fiancé's shoulder. "Let's get back to the camp. This mission is over."

"Indeed," Drew agreed, rushing outside to fresh air. "Monty and Shego are going to have the difficult part."

"I think you mean Shego is going to have the hard job," Kim tried to correct him. She giggled a little as Drew carefully wiped his feet on the grass.

"No," Drew countered. "Delivering the baby isn't going to be half as difficult as explaining how they managed to have two children, two months apart."

"What?"

"I'll fill you in on the way back."

* * *

_A/N_

_Again, we reach then end of a chapter. Dear friends, we're almost done with this tale. One chapter left, and I'd like to thank Joe Stoppinghem for his continued beta efforts._

_Thanks again for reading and, until my next update, best wishes;_

_Daccu65_


	33. Aftermath and Epilogue

Chapter 33: Aftermath and Epilogue.

Amy regained consciousness just in time to see most of her captors depart. Two agents went one way, Drew, the teens and another agent went another way, the one-eyed woman led Monty back to the hut and the monkeys scattered. Only one agent was left to keep an eye on her. Stifling a smile, she started to struggle against her bonds.

"Prisoner, stop moving," the guard told her. The agent approached, with his shocker watch trained on the writhing villain. Amy continued to struggle.

"Prisoner, are you in pain?" The agent asked. Amy said nothing but continued to struggle.

"Prisoner, cease your escape attempt or I will take aggressive action," the guard told her. Amy continued to strain against her bonds.

"Prisoner, I have no choice," the guard informed his captive and touched a button on his watch.

The guard's aim was true. The watch's face flew off of his wrist, struck the struggling woman and poured 50,000 volts of electricity into her body. Amy arched and tensed with the shock, only flopping back onto the ground after the jolt ended. Gasping for breath, she whispered faintly to the guard.

"What?" The man demanded, rewinding the watch face. Amy whispered again.

"I can't hear you," he said, leaning a little closer. This time, he could hear Amy's faint breath but not comprehend her words.

"Say that again," he instructed her, now with his ear almost on her mouth.

"I said... thanks for the recharge."

With a quick flex of her muscles, Amy broke the plastic restraints that had been holding her. Before the agent could react, she grabbed him by the shoulders and unleashed a jolt. The agent was out before he could yell for help. Amy caught him and dragged him a short distance into the jungle, out of immediate sight. There, she paused for a moment and considered her options.

The child that she coveted was just about to enter the world, a short distance away. Unfortunately, there was no way she was going to be able to seize it. While she had eliminated one guard, there was no way she was going to be able to deal with Stoppable, Possible and the remainder of the Global Justice contingent. It was time to cut her losses and escape to scheme another day.

"Sorry, Avers," she whispered to herself, as she made her way through the dense plant growth. "But there's no way I can get you out of here, as well."

For the next several minutes, Amy pondered the notion that another villain might look up her former associate and motivate him with notions of revenge against her. She shook her head and concentrated on more immediate concerns. Since it was still well before noon, she put her face towards the sun and traveled east. Eventually, she would find a coast and then a city. After that, she would be able to find her way back to the U.S., where she maintained one, last hidden lab.

She would have to stay low, probably for a long time. Amy was also certain that her monetary assets had either been seized or worse, monitored. She was going to have to start with almost nothing but that was nothing new for her. Perhaps it was time to give up on villainy…at least for a little while. She had actually enjoyed her life as a Middleton Schoolteacher. As she continued to slog through the undergrowth, the idea of a relatively normal life was beginning to appeal to her. She could always go back to villainy…if the legal life grew stale. While Global Justice would be certain to keep a close watch on Shego, the other Team Go members were still viable DNA sources…if she ever wanted to take another crack at harnessing the power.

* * *

Kim led the way back to the monkeys' encampment. Just as her group arrived, two Global Justice agents approached from the opposite direction. The two burly men were carrying a crude stretcher, with a bandaged figure upon it. Two monkeys led the men to the camp and then quickly rushed up to Ron once the men set down the stretcher.

"I take it that this is Aviarius," Du remarked, examining the battered villain.

"Aviarius, or what Amy made of him," one of the agents retorted.

"And what Fiske left of him," the other added. "Looking at what the two of these guys did to each other, I'd say that the Englishman got the better of it. Of course, I'd have paid good money to see the fight."

"Why would anybody want to do this to themselves?" Kim asked nobody in particular, while examining the unconscious man's wings and clawed feet.

"There's many reasons," Drew answered, shocking everyone present that someone was actually answering the question. "Monty wanted to emulate monkeys. Jackie Oakes wanted power. Amy felt belittled by the world. Aviarius, who knows? Maybe he wanted to emulate birds or maybe he thought that he wouldn't be able to gain revenge upon Fiske in his old body. Not everybody is an admirable physical specimen, after all."

"Amy was ranting about that," Kim shrugged. "I don't buy it. I don't believe that not being pretty or athletic will make someone go to this length."

"Most people, no," Drakken agreed. "But some people feel driven to do various things and consider their own bodies to be inadequate for the job, so they alter their bodies."

"They take shortcuts," Kim sniffed. "I worked long and hard to become as capable as I am. Amy wasn't willing to put in that work, so she took a shortcut."

"Shortcut?" Drew looked honestly amused by the term. He quickly took on the aspect of a professor about to lecture a student. "Tell me, is it taking a shortcut to make use of your expertise? I'm willing to bet that Amy put every bit as much effort into her genetic research as you did towards your physical training. Why shouldn't she make use of that hard-earned skill? I spent a great deal of time and effort inventing and selling things to Henchco. Was it taking a shortcut to use the money I made to hire Shego?"

"What are you getting at?" Kim asked, now troubled by his answer.

"I'm simply pointing out something that middle age has taught me, that you shouldn't look down on somebody else because they chose a different path in life than you did."

"I shouldn't look down at Amy because she tried to take over the world, then kidnapped Hanna?"

"I don't mean that," Drakken protested, holding his hands up in a mollifying gesture. "Amy's a criminal…like I used to be. By all means, look down at her for her criminal activity but don't look down at her capability. This sort of thinking is why jocks look down on nerds and nerds look down on jocks."

Drakken was honestly amused by Kim's sudden, shocked look.

"Yes, it's true," he continued, then pointed to the direction he thought was towards Middleton. "Go back to your college, disguise yourself as a nerd and infiltrate a group of awkward, socially inept nerdy engineering students." Now he politely pointed first to Kim and then to his head to illustrate his point. "Listen to what they say about the jocks' mental abilities. It'll be every bit as insulting as the jocks' remarks about the nerds' physical abilities."

"I'm sorry to interrupt this weird conversation," Ron interrupted. "But speaking of Amy, what happened after she blinded me? You said something about her not being able to see."

"Oh!" Kim suddenly remembered the brave, little monkey. "A monkey suddenly showed up and threw some mud…at least I hope it was mud…in Amy's eyes. She hit it and it flew over…here."

Kim led the way towards the tree the monkey had struck. Ron suddenly spotted the creature and rushed forward. As if recognizing him, the small primate opened its eyes and weakly reached up to the blonde.

"Is it badly hurt?" Kim whispered.

"She's... dying," Ron murmured, holding his subject's paw. "She sacrificed herself to save me."

"We have to do something!" Kim wailed.

"We have first aid equipment equivalent to an ambulance," Will Du informed the small group. "Monkey anatomy is close enough to human anatomy that we should be able to stabilize it…her. Then, we can rush her to the nearest veterinarian or zoo. They should be able to…"

"No," Ron interrupted, with quiet, somber voice. With a few tears rolling down his face, he continued. "She doesn't want that. She's had a rough life; first being a ninja then getting caught up with Amy's schemes. She enjoyed the last year, simply being a monkey. Now, she wants to meet her end as a monkey, with no human doctors or medicines."

"But she's all alone!" Kim protested, shedding some tears, as well. "Where did the rest of the monkeys go?"

"They're gathering up their dead and wounded," Ron answered, now resting a gentle hand on the monkey's forehead. "They'll tend their own wounded and help those who can recover."

"What about the ones that can't recover?" Kim asked.

"They'll make them as comfortable as they can…until the end. They'll carry their dead a safe distance from their settlement, so predators won't be attracted too close."

"No burials?" Du asked. "No memorials?"

"That's a human trait," Ron told him. "Monkeys miss those who pass on, but they don't mourn. They'll return their dead to the jungle."

The brave primate he was comforting let out a last sigh and relaxed for the last time. Ron bowed his head in sadness for a moment, before rising to his feet. Two monkeys emerged from the jungle, picked up their fallen leader and slipped back into the undergrowth."

"You'll have to forgive them," Ron told his companions, while gesturing in the directions the primates had gone. "Their contacts with humans haven't been very encouraging, so they'll avoid large groups of us. I'm concerned about those flying monkey things that Amy made. What happens if they get free and breed?"

"You don't need to worry about that," Drakken assured him. "Amy managed to make hybrids but she never managed to make fertile hybrids. I'll have our intelligence experts confirm it, as soon as they can crack the files she left in Seattle."

"Or we get her to talk," Du added. "Wait a minute! Where is she? Where's Ralph?"

"Ralph?"

"The agent who was guarding her. Ralph!"

The assembled humans spread out to search for the missing prisoner and guard. They quickly found the immobilized agent, who told them what had happened.

"Great!" Kim growled. "Now we have to find Amy and she has a big head start."

"I don't know how to track people through a jungle," Du admitted. "Do you?"

"Well…no," Kim admitted. "How about the monkeys? Can they track her?"

"I'm not going to ask them to do it." Ron told her.

"Why not?"

"They've been through enough. They have wounded to tend to and dead to remove. Amy is a human and therefore a human issue. The monkeys have done enough and I'm not going to ask any more of them." A sudden cloudburst interrupted Ron's explanation. "Besides that, the trail is officially cold."

An infant's cry suddenly sounded from the hut, interrupting any protests about Ron's stance. Moments later, Dr. Director emerged from the small structure and climbed to the ground. The normally stern woman couldn't keep the smile off of her face.

"I'm pleased to announce that the next Lord Fiske has just arrived," she informed the assembly. "What's the situation?"

Agent Du quickly filled her in.

"Ron is correct," She told them. "We don't have the time and resources to pursue Amy at this time. Agent Du, take charge of Aviarius and transport him to the Global Justice medical and detention center. As soon as you do so, report to the operations officer. You have a flower to deliver to a special, young woman and he'll tell you where we're keeping her."

"Bonnie! In all of this I've forgotten!" Du exclaimed, smacking his forehead.

Once her agent regained his composure, Betty continued with her orders. "Kim and Ron, you will return Hanna to her home. I'll instruct your pilot to take you back to Middleton. Drew, you'll come with me. We will deliver the Fiske family to the nearest hospital and meet with Shego and Montgomery's former employer."

"Why do we need to speak to the smuggler?" Drew asked.

"We'll need to relocate the family," the commander informed him. "He's an honorable man and will try to locate them, if they simply vanish. We'll tell him that they're well and explain the situation, so he won't try to track them down. He may even help us find new employment for them."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Excellent! Now everyone, we have an injured agent, an injured criminal, a young woman who has just given birth, hosts that want us to leave and we're all standing around in the rain. Let's rig two more stretchers and get to the clearing, so our aircraft can pick us up. It's time to go."

* * *

Epilogue One.

The doorbell startled Mrs. Stoppable, as she wasn't expecting company so soon after her release from the hospital. Expecting to see a police officer or perhaps a federal agent, she was pleasantly startled to see…

"James!" She declared, opening the door for the slender rocket scientist. "What a wonderful surprise."

"It's great to see you, Jean," Dr. Possible gave his friend a quick, one-armed embrace. He was holding a briefcase in the other hand. "Anne tells me that Gene will be getting out of the hospital next week."

"Yes, and he's being a stubborn mule about it," she sighed. "He wants out now, even though he hasn't fully recovered. Still, it will be nice to have him home."

"Is Ronald available?"

"Yes," Jean Stoppable frowned. "And he's the other stubborn mule in this family. It's been over a week since the two kids brought Hanna back and a full week since classes started again, but he insists on staying here every night."

"I know," James nodded. "Kim has been traveling with him. According to her, the apartment isn't the same. Besides that, her car doesn't use gasoline, so she prefers to give him rides."

"That's not the worst of it. It's Friday Night, he and Kim should be out doing something fun. Instead, he's in Hanna's room, studying while she sleeps."

"I know Jean. There are a few things I need to speak to him about…man to man."

"Whatever they are, I hope you can snap him out of his funk."

"I'll see what I can do," he replied with a hopeful grin.

Jean Stoppable took the hint when Dr. Possible said 'man to man' and left her friend to speak to her son. James had never been nervous about approaching Ronald before. However, there were topics here that had to be discussed and they affected his daughter. As much as James didn't like certain subjects, James Possible never shirked his family duties. He braced himself before knocking, very quietly, on Hanna's door.

"What's up, mom?" Ron's whispered voice sounded through the door.

"It isn't your mother," James answered.

"Oh, Mr. Dr. P. Just a minute."

Moments later, the door swung open.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Dr. P?" Ron asked.

"Ronald!" James asked, upon seeing a pile of blankets next to Hanna's bed. "Have you been sleeping in Hanna's room?"

"I'm not taking chances. If Amy comes back after her again, she'll have to get through me."

"I'm impressed with your dedication but don't you think you're going overboard?"

"Mr. Dr. P, it wasn't your family that was attacked."

"True enough Ronald, but are you going to live the rest of your life six feet away from your sister?"

Ron only shrugged his shoulders.

"Tell you what, Ronald. Why don't the two of us have a talk in your room, where we won't wake her? Rufus can keep an eye on her while we're all of twenty feet away."

Rufus saluted the doctor, so Ron shrugged his shoulders again and led the way to his attic room. Once there, he offered his guest his desk chair before setting on the bed.

"Ronald, we can discuss your issue with your sister later. For right now, I want to talk about what you and my Kimmie have been doing."

Ron promptly went pale.

"I'm not talking about _that_…although we'll get to that... as well. What I'm talking about is your last mission to Europe. According to Kim, you're feeling very guilty about your actions you took in that Dementor Lady's lair."

"I tortured a man," Ron admitted. "He wouldn't turn off a machine so I tortured him into doing it."

"So Kim says. According to her, one of your classmates, Bonnie could have been killed if the man didn't turn the machine off. Also, she tells me that it was so complex the two of you couldn't do it without risking even further damage. Is this true?"

Ron just nodded.

"Wouldn't you say that inflicting a little pain on him was worth Bonnie's life?"

"That sounds like a cheap justification," Ron countered. "The end justifies the means has a really dark history."

"Yes it does," James agreed. "And at other times, it has saved lives. Tell me Ronald; even now, after you have had time to sit down and think through the situation, what would you have done differently?"

"I haven't really thought about it…"

"Don't lie to me Ronald!" James snapped as he shook his head in disapproval. "You wouldn't still be talking about it to Kim if you weren't thinking about it. Now, what would you have done differently?"

"I…I don't know," Ron admitted, shaking his head. "I keep trying to come up with something and I just can't."

"But you still feel guilty," James finished for him. "You felt so guilty that you reported your actions, in painstaking detail, to the German Police, didn't you?"

"That's the worst part! They didn't do anything about it! No charges for assault. Not even a reprimand! They acted like nothing happened!"

"Why do you think they ignored it?"

"Because I was with Kim and she's famous! They didn't want the public nightmare of charging Kim Possible's sidekick right after she saved the world."

"Or, none of them could think of another action they would have taken," James countered. "Ronald, are you familiar with the term vigilante?"

"Oh yeah," Ron replied. It was the first time James could recall the young man speaking sarcastically to him. "I've heard all the stories. When the law doesn't take care of the 'undesirables', you get a vigilante to take care of them. Trust me Mr. Dr. P, my family has spent a couple of centuries being the undesirables that everyone else wants out of the picture. A vigilante can do whatever he wants and everyone just turns a blind eye."

"That's one way of looking at it," James admitted, while opening his briefcase. He pulled out a large book. "You can also look at vigilantes as those who step up when nobody else will." The rocket scientist spent a few moments paging through the book. "Here we go. This is a picture of my great grandfather, Justin Barley Possible. He moved here with the town's original settlers. Of course, the small community that eventually became Middleton didn't have a police department, fire department, or any other emergency services. Faced with no emergency services, ol' Just Barley formed a vigilance committee."

"He was a vigilante?"

"Yes. He wasn't out to get anyone, he was just one of several people who did the best he could, in a situation he wasn't really prepared to face. Because of this, he made mistakes."

"What kind of mistakes?"

"He ran an innocent man out of town," Dr. Possible admitted. Seeing Ron's shocked look, he continued. "It isn't something that he was proud of, but he knew that he had to admit it. Here's the entry in his diary. '_Today, Mr. Nedding found Miss Rockwaller's milk cow in Upperton Canyon. Apparently the creature found a flaw in its pen, wandered off and became lost in the wilderness. While the creature's return is most welcome, it brings a troubling thought; Mr. Dempsey did not steal and slaughter the beast, as we thought. Clearly, the beef he was peddling did not come from the aforementioned beast, as Miss Rockwaller claimed. Instead, his claims of innocently purchasing a bovine from a passing trader seem to be true. Unfortunately, we have been unable to locate Mr. Dempsey. Yesterday, we informed him that unless he paid Miss Rockwaller for her livestock, we would flog him in public. Our rash decision has caused an innocent man to flee our community and we are only beginning to realize our loss."_

"Just what does this have to do with the mission in Germany?"

"You and Just were in the same situation," James told the young man. "Both of you found yourself in a position that you were not trained to deal with. Both of you did the best you could and didn't necessarily make the best possible decision. That's not the only similarity you have with Justin."

"Oh?"

"Justin's duties as a member of the vigilance committee took up more of his time as the population grew," James explained. "The other townsfolk realized this and pitched in to compensate him for the time and effort he donated to them. When they found out that his horse had gone lame, one of them traded Justin a healthy animal. When they realized that his roof was leaking, they patched it for him. Sound familiar?"

"Sort of like Senior giving us the apartment?"

"Exactly. Ronald, you and Kimberly don't take money for your services. Many people realize this, so they help you out in other ways. It says something about your character that you feel guilty about accepting these gifts but remember why people give them. They are both thanking you for your help and making it possible for you to keep helping others."

"Ummm…. Mr. Dr. P…about the apartment," Ron replied, with his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I have a confession to make."

"You and Kimberly have taken a step in your relationship," Mr. Dr. P interrupted him.

"Well, yeah," Ron admitted. "I…well…we…"

"Ronald," James sighed. "This isn't easy for me and I really wish that your own father would have this conversation with you. However, it's the two of us here and we might as well deal with this. I really think that you got into this too young, but what's done is done. You can't go back and change things. I know that Kimberly loves you and that you feel the same about her. Furthermore, I know that neither of you forced the other into an action you didn't want to take. For right or wrong, good or bad, the two of you have taken that step and you're just going to have to deal with it."

"So you're not mad?"

"I'm not mad, I'm concerned, very concerned. Ronald, the two of you are very close so if things don't work out for you, it's going to hurt both of you a great deal. While I wish the two of you would have waited until you were older, and ready to face any potential consequences, I have to admit that the two of you are very much in love and that your romance has a solid foundation in friendship. I can only hope that the two of you face the future with the mutual respect that got you to this point."

"Mr. Dr. P, I…"

"Hold on for a moment Ronald, I'm not finished. I know that the two of you spent some extra time in Germany. It wasn't that long ago that I was your age, so I can imagine just why the two of you wanted to spend a few days away from parents and chaperones. Note that I said 'the two of you'. I'm fully aware that Kimberly chose, as well as you, to do this. However, the two of you have mixed this up with what happened to your family. Ronald, although Kimberly knows that neither of you are to blame for what happened here, she's so close to you that when you suffer, she does. Because you're feeling misplaced guilt, she's feeling misplaced guilt and in order to help my daughter, I have to help you deal with this."

"But if we had come right back…"

"If you had come directly back, you could have been out of communication for several hours. Think of it this way. If had Wade arranged transportation right away, before this emergency occurred, the young man would have sent you home via slow transportation. With the satellite communications off line, he may not have been able to re-contact you until you were back in Middleton. Because the two of you stayed in Germany, he had a known place to contact you, as soon as he found out about the attack. Because of this, he was able to reach the two of you fairly quickly and arrange for faster transportation."

"That sounds like justifying what we did," Ron accused.

"It is," James admitted. Then to clarify himself to the teen he quickly stated, "I'm referring to the staying... Not the extra activities."

Ron looked down, still trying to get his head wrapped around their discussion. James saw that it was time to bring home the point to his long time extended family member.

"Ronald, what you don't seem to realize is that what happened to your family is not your fault. You have a life to live and it isn't going to be spent inside this house, at least not if you're going to be my son-in-law. The only one at fault is Amy Hall, and she isn't one to try the same thing twice. Sure, she got away but that doesn't mean that you need to spend the rest of your life on guard, here. If you do, you'll take Team Possible out of operation and that _will_ be your fault."

"So what do I do?"

"You trust those around you. You trust the law enforcement officials to warn you when they suspect that Amy is up to something again. For now, since it's Saturday night and you have an upset fiancé a few blocks away, I suggest you take her out for a movie, dinner and dancing."

"So you're okay if we…"

"I'm not okay!" James interrupted at first with and evil glare but then a smile. "I'm your future father-in-law, so I'll be watching you like a hawk to make sure you don't do anything to upset my daughter. Now get the heck out of this house and be a young adult instead of a middle-aged worry-wart."

* * *

Epilogue two…

"I must say, Miss, that I find your production facility very impressive."

Herman Goodsell, newly promoted purchasing manager for Bueno Nacho and Hego's secret identity, looked around the vast greenhouse with an appreciative eye. "Such an undertaking must have cost a great deal to start. Where did you find the investors?"

"I had some funds left over from some previous endeavors," the young blonde woman replied.

"What sort of endeavors?" Herman was only slightly curious. He was more interested in the facilities. He also had to admit that he found this woman quite alluring.

"I prefer not to talk about those times," she shuddered. "In fact, I consider that time to be a previous life. I'll provide full disclosure if you make a formal inquiry but…"

"No need," Herman assured her bringing up his hands. "Our legal department is satisfied, so I won't pry."

"This facility represents the last of that cash," she told him. "So I can assure you that I'll be very serious about supplying Bueno Nacho with the best, fresh produce available."

"I had no doubt about that. I'm no farmer but I know that you're getting incredible results here. How do you do it?"

"Oh, I've always had a knack for genetics so I was able to develop lettuce, tomatoes, onions and other vegetables that thrive in a greenhouse environment. I can assure you that in this carefully controlled climate, I'll produce my wares with no pesticides or herbicides. This is a totally green operation."

"Well, I'm convinced," Herman assured her. "I hope you're ready to ramp up production, because once the public tastes what Bueno Nacho makes with your produce, demand is going to go through the roof."

"I already have six of these greenhouses in operation," she assured him. "And this farm has room for plenty more. I'll produce whatever you can sell."

"Thank you, Miss…"

"Amanda," the blonde woman corrected him. "Call me Amanda."

"Amanda. Very well, I look forward to working with you a great deal, in the future."

"Yes, I hope we develop a very close relationship."

Amanda Adams watched as her guest and customer climbed into his corporate vehicle and drove away, down the dry, Oklahoma road. Once the diminishing dust cloud told her that he was well away from her high-tech farm, she returned to her chores.

Last year, when she wore a small brunette body, with enhanced strength, these chores would have been so much easier. Still, she found the tasks strangely appealing. She kept busy and was actually making an honest profit. She was safe from the law because she was working inside the law. After the debacle in Guatemala, it was time to lay low.

Later that evening, with the day's delivery boxed up and on a truck to the Bueno Nacho distribution center, she sat on her back porch and looked out over the dark prairie. From this distance, Go City's lights showed as a faint glow on the horizon and the peaceful surroundings leant themselves to introspection. She didn't know if she would ever return to a life of crime. Her time in Middleton; interacting with the Stoppable and Possible families, had taught her that there may be more satisfaction found in a simple life than in uncovering and harnessing genetic power. While power's lure might eventually pull her away from her current life, she was content for the moment. Perhaps she would eventually find a husband and live the complete family life experience.

That last thought brought a speculative smile to her face. Hego's secret identity had proven almost insultingly easy to uncover. After learning the name he carried, when he wasn't in costume, she investigated his past and found pictures of the two women he had dated in the past. Both women were tall and broad.

Looking at her reflection in the picture window, she noted that she was only a couple of inches under six feet tall and had a very strong physique. While most of the male population would find her attractive but not stunning, Hego had had difficulties keeping his eyes off of her. Surprisingly, his reaction to her appearance had given her a pleasant feeling, rather than a feeling of predatory triumph.

She had targeted Hego in order to keep close to a potential source of Team Go DNA and to influence his buying decision. Still, other benefits could be reaped from that action. After thinking about the situation for a few more minutes, she decided that she would pursue a relationship with the Go City hero. A carefully executed campaign to win his heart should prove intellectually stimulating and if she ever wanted to harness additional Team Go DNA, there would be a much more conventional way to obtain it.

* * *

"At ease, Agent Du, and deliver the two year after action review." Dr. Director motioned for the young man to take a seat.

"Yes, Dr. Director," Will slid into the offered chair. "If I may, I would like to start with DNAmy."

"Of course."

"As you know, we still haven't been able to locate her. With Mr. Lode's help, we tracked down one of her secret laboratories. To the best of our knowledge, shortly after escaping from us in Belize, she used it to change form and hasn't been seen since. We haven't been able to track down any other facilities."

"She's perfectly capable of making a legitimate living," the one-eyed woman pointed out. "She could either be laying low temporarily or she may have decided to live a law-abiding life. There's no way of knowing."

"I agree, ma'am. I've worked with Agent Blue and he's put out feelers in the underworld that supplies criminals. If we see anyone purchasing the high-tech equipment she used, we'll be ready to make some inquiries. Other than that, we'll simply have to deal with her if and when she re-emerges."

"I hate playing defense, but I see no other option," Dr. Director shrugged. "Staying with the criminal element, how has the Fiske family adapted to their new life?"

"So far, they seem to be doing well enough," Du shrugged. "They have established themselves in a pirate band, working the Strait of Malacca. They have actually decreased the violence by substituting tribute demands for armed attacks. The band they serve has increased its power and has claimed control over more of the strait. This has actually made that section of the strait more secure, as the pirate band considers itself honor-bound to defend tribute-paying ships from other pirates. On a more personal level, both Shego and Montgomery seem to enjoy being parents. The two children are apparently a handful and have kept the adults too busy to pursue any sort of world-conquering ambitions. While Montgomery performs some occasional, illegal archaeology, parenthood and piracy seem to occupy the rest of their time."

"How about the monkey band?"

"As per Mr. Stoppable's instructions, we have intentionally neglected the monkeys," Du answered. "The last contact we had was via a predator drone, three weeks ago. There are still well-repaired huts in the trees, indicating that the monkeys are still thriving. Other than that, it is our intention to leave them alone."

"Have any of the flying monkeys turned up?"

"No. While they were capable opponents, I don't think that they were prepared to live in the jungle. Additional research from Amy's captured records indicates that these creatures, which she called mongels, are sterile and short-lived. Any impact they have upon the environment will be minor and temporary."

"Very well," Dr. Director appeared satisfied with that. "What about Avers?"

"We were able to reverse-engineer Amy's processes enough to restore the former Aviarius to his normal body," Du reported. "He is currently serving a six-year sentence for various parole violations. While he has expressed a desire to gain revenge upon Amy, for abandoning him in the jungle, he is also terrified at the prospect of leaving prison."

"Why is that?"

"A _certain agent_," Will smiled. "Let him know that the smugglers, who the Fiskes worked for, considered his attack upon them to be a personal insult. While they aren't a large band and don't have a presence in North America, they just might take out a contract on him."

"Innovative, Agent Du," Dr. Director nodded her approval. "What about Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable?"

"As you know, Global Justice digs into the personal lives of prospective agents to a degree the public would not approve," Du reported. "Kim and Ron seem to have endured a short, rough time in their personal relationship. Shortly after recovering Hanna Stoppable, the two exhibited signs of stress and guilt for roughly a week. After this, they seem to have accepted the fact that they were not responsible for the attack upon the Stoppable household. Our staff psychologists suspect that their relationship then reverted to a casual dating status, which deepened over time. In essence, they returned to being girlfriend and boyfriend for the better part of a year, before continuing where they had left off. They still intend on marrying after graduation."

"What are their employment prospects?"

"As of this time, Miss Possible is deluged with job offers. While Mr. Stoppable doesn't have as many prospects, he still has several to choose from, including a potential professional football career. Miss Possible continues to express an interest in working for Global Justice."

"Don't let her get away," Dr. Director instructed her subordinate. "Make sure that recruiting keeps her steered away from the covert agent section. I want the complete Kim Possible, and that means I want her to maintain her relationship with Mr. Stoppable. While Kim is formidable on her own, Ron's presence makes her even better."

"We'll recruit him, as well," Agent Du assured his superior. "Although we don't have the budget to challenge the NFL, he might find the work more satisfying."

"We're almost finished," Dr. Director declared. "And it's getting close to quitting time. The last subject is Bonnie Rockwaller."

"Supplementary Agent Rockwall…"

"Will, considering your relationship with her and the fact that she isn't a Global Justice employee, you can refer to her in a different manner."

"Yes, Dr. Director," Agent Du blushed slightly as he continued. "Bonnie made a complete recovery after I delivered the orchids to the medical center. As agreed, Global Justice expunged several of the more egregious offenses from her criminal record, which prompted several colleges and universities to accept her applications. She continues to attend classes part time, while modeling for Club Banana. According to her, it's great to live a dream but a backup plan doesn't hurt."

"She's learned some wisdom," Dr. Director commented. "I'd have our records branch check on her, now and then, but I don't think I'll have to do that, will I?"

"Dr. Director," Will mumbled. "I don't know if she'll…"

"C'mon Will" Dr. Director was actually smiling. "I'm not blind! Since she isn't a full agent, your relationship isn't unethical. You're keeping tabs on her, with her approval and for personal reasons, so I don't have to allocate resources to do so. I also suspect that you're about to make a certain…merger proposition…to this subject. Will you allow me the honor of performing an equipment check?"

"Please," Will replied. Despite his blush, Will pulled a small box out of his pocket and placed it on Betty's desk.

"When are you going to pop the question?" She asked, while examining the contents.

"Tonight."

"Agent Du, I would wish you luck but I don't think luck will apply," Dr. Director closed the box and tossed it back to the Agent. "She's going to say yes. Instead, I'll wish you luck for your future. While being an investigative and executive agent is more family-friendly than being an undercover agent, balancing a family and this job will still be challenging. I hope the two of you are up to it."

"So do I."

"Agent Du, when you defied my orders and rescued Miss Rockwaller, you actually went above the call of duty. I changed your department out of gratitude and in the hope that you could establish what I couldn't, a fulfilling family life. Global Justice owed you for your extraordinary actions, and Global Justice always repays its debts."

"I think I understand."

"Excellent. Now, it is past quitting time and although the answer to your question is a foregone conclusion, it will be very poor form to be late to ask it. Dismissed, Agent Du, and I expect that ring to be on Miss Rockwaller's finger by this time tomorrow."

"You can count on me, Dr. Director," Will sprang to his feet, then paused. "Dr. Director, I have a question for you?"

"Proceed."

"What ever happened to the clones of Shego and Stoppable?"

"That's classified, Agent Du," Dr. Director told the agent, although her voice wasn't stern. "I appreciate your concern but it's need to know information. I will tell you that they aren't institutionalized and are living a fairly normal family life."

Will nodded and turned to leave.

"Agent Du," Dr. Director's voice halted him. "I want you to know that I sacrificed a possible family life for the good of Global Justice. While I have no regrets for this sacrifice, I occasionally wish that I could have had it all. I honestly hope that you and Bonnie can complete each other."

"I do to," Will murmured. "Dr. Director, if you sacrificed a family for the sake of Global Justice, and Global Justice always repays its debts, how will Global Justice repay you?"

"It already has," Dr. Director smiled. "Now get out of here and hand a special young woman that piece of gold and carbon."

Agent Du didn't need further prompting. As soon as she was alone in her office, Betty Director keyed her phone and informed her secretary that she was off duty. Two years ago, before the incident she had just reviewed with Agent Du, Dr. Director would have continued working for several more hours before going home in uniform.

Things had changed.

Betty Director stepped into her personal locker room and changed into civilian slacks and a blouse. She removed her eye patch and examined her false eye. Satisfied that she looked like a typical civilian, she stepped into her personal transport tube for a quick ride to a Middleton parking garage. Once in the parking garage, she mingled with the other commuters as she made her way to her private vehicle, a mini-van.

Minutes later, the mini-van pulled into a daycare center's parking lot. Looking like almost any other middle-aged woman, Betty walked into the center and waved to the attendants. At this time of day, the small horde of children were playing together in the center's backyard playground. Smiling, Betty walked out of the center's back door and dropped to a knee. Almost immediately, the children noticed her.

Two toddlers broke free of the loud group and ran towards her. With joyful screams of 'mommy, mommy' the blonde, freckled boy and the pale girl, with lustrous black hair, threw themselves into her welcoming arms.

-finis-

* * *

_This, my dear friends and readers, is the end of my tale. I must also inform everyone that this is the last story in the 'To the Mat' arc. If you're curious to know why, there are three reasons. First, this story arc is becoming a little stale to me. The premise that I built the arc upon; Ron using high school sports to explain his growing competence, seems to have run its course. Secondly, I made the error of boxing myself in by writing a 'years down the road' epilogue after the second story. Since we all know what will happen to the main characters in the future, much of the surprise is gone from writing about them in the present tense. The final reason is that the OCs I included were starting to take over too much of the tale. While Trudy Dementor, Ellie Minated, Oscar Williamsen, Cindy Grouse, Rita Richards and others were fun to write, they weren't stock characters and were starting to headline the stories, rather than supporting the show's characters. These three items combined with each other to make this thread difficult to continue. Since it was still fairly popular and fresh, I decided that it was time for it to end._

_I know that I've left several issues unresolved: Tara and Monique exchanging boyfriends, Cindy and Oscar's continued courtship and wedding, and if Amy will actually go straight. However, I believe that there should always be something left to the reader' imagination. Hopefully, you'll enjoy occasionally contemplating how these and other issues will resolve themselves. I feel that I set the groundwork, so it isn't too hard to imagine Oscar and Cindy's college years, Tara and Monique continuing to realize that they have more in common with each other's boyfriends than their own or even Will popping the question to Bonnie. _

_I'd like to take a few lines here to wax nostalgic to anyone who cares to read. I started this arc in January of 2008. Back then, I seldom proof-read, had no beta and wrote paragraphs about 1200 words long. As time passed, Joe Stoppinghem stepped in to beta for me (more about him later) and I started to proof my own work and write longer paragraphs. I hope anyone still reading this noticed that my writing became better as time went on. Finally, the Kimmunity lost some cherished members during this time frame: Commander Argus, cpneb and Screaming Phoenix come to mind. Not to diminish the loss of the other two, but SP was a frequent reviewer and we traded frequent PMs, so I truly miss him. SP, I really regret not finishing this arc while you could tell me what you thought. Hopefully, someday we'll be able to meet in person and swap some tales._

_Last, and opposite of least, I'd like to thank my ever-patient beta reader, Joe Stoppinghem. Joe offered to beta for me about a quarter of the way into 'Ron Goes to the Mat' and made an immediate, long-lasting and continued difference to the presentation. If you enjoyed this arc, please express your appreciation to him, as well. _

_Before I close, I'd like to say how much I've enjoyed writing for you, the reader. Your reviews and PMs let me know that there were people out there who enjoyed the view I had on the characters and the series. I want you to know that I'm not turning away from the Kimmunity; I'll still be reading, reviewing and dropping the occasional forum comment. I fully intend to write a bit more KP work in the future…after taking a bit of a break._

_So, until my next endeavor makes it to this site, my best wishes to everyone;_

_Daccu65_


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